


Drowning Deep

by trulymadlylarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Mermaid!Harry, Profanity, i haven't exactly figured out the dynamics with that yet, maybe smut???, there's past-zouis, they got a divorce, umm what else???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-23 00:04:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6098317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trulymadlylarry/pseuds/trulymadlylarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a troubling divorce, Louis Tomlinson decides to spend his summer fixing a cottage on the seaside.  As it turns out, living on an isolated beach has its perks.  (Mermaid!Harry)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. isolation

**Author's Note:**

> Please give feedback! I really appreciate it. Let me know if I should continue! Feel free to leave predictions, too. x

The rustic cottage is nestled on a rocky shore, next to sharp cliffs and rough, stony beaches. A large amount of rain fell the previous night, leaving the sand drenched with water. The violent waves crash against the seaside, roaring with strength. With each step, pebbles crunch beneath Louis's bright, yellow wellies.

In an attempt to escape the harsh, nipping wind, Louis pulls up his hood to cover his reddened face. He approaches the cabin slowly, in fear of tripping over jagged rocks or scattered sticks. The air reeks of sea salt and rotting fish, but over time, the scent becomes unnoticable.

Louis looks up timidly. The cottage stands separated from others, confined to a small section of beach that most people consider inhospitable. Louis sees endless, blue waters in the west and tall trees towards the east. He's truly _alone_ out here. A dense feeling of isolation sinks into the pit of his stomach.

Broken windows cover the lodge's exterior, complete with shattered glass and destroyed shudders. The white paint has chipped away, leaving the underlying wood exposed. The front porch wraps around the cabin with creaky boards and unstable railings. Up above, black shingles tremble on the roof as the wind whistles.

Louis fishes out his keys from his front pocket. Once he identifies the small, rusted piece of metal, he unlocks the front door, and the breeze carries it open with a loud _whoosh_. He swallows nervously and slips inside. He quickly shuts the door again and sighs with relief. Finally, he can breathe again.

He looks around with disbelief. The cottage is an absolute mess. The floorboards are covered with dust and random rubbish, from crushed beer cans to crumpled papers. Distantly, Louis can hear a leak in the roof, pitting and patting to fill the silence. The old wallpaper is peeling and faded. The only furniture that remains is an old, abandoned couch that lay in the center of the large living room. It's a horrid shade of yellow, filled with cigarette holes.

But this place has potential, Louis thinks. He has hope that he can transform this disgusting cabin into a beautiful, extravagant home. He purchased this property for a cheap price, due to its inconvenient location. The nearest major city is more than thirty minutes away. Regardless, after what Louis's been through, isolation is _exactly_ what he needs.

He clears his throat before stepping under the archway that leads to the kitchen. The windows open up towards the seaside, and Louis can't wait to fix the dirty, shattered glass. It's a marvelous view. From here, he can see the white tips of relentless waves crashing on the shore. It's both soothing and terrifying at the same time.

He pulls out his rolled-up blueprints, which are secured with a rubberband. He plucks it off and unravels the large sheet of paper on the filthy counter. His blue eyes scan over it with excitement. Although fixing this cabin will be a large task for one person, it's worth it. He needs to clear his head and mend his broken heart.

He recently divorced his ex-husband, Zayn, whom he dated for nearly five years. They met at university and instantly clicked. They were both rebellious, flirtatious, and shamelessly carefree. Their personalities matched perfectly, but maybe that was the whole problem. Maybe they were _too_ similar. Maybe that's why they started fighting in the first place.

Or maybe it was because Zayn cheated on him with a hot, young, blonde woman.

He can remember that day like it was yesterday. Louis arrived home after a long, exhausting day at work. He was a drama teacher at the local secondary school in Doncaster. He was anxious to see his husband and unwind with him, maybe share a joint or two, but he walked into their apartment to find Zayn fucking a girl on their couch.

Three days later, Louis filed for divorce.

Rubbing his temples with frustration, Louis plants his elbows on the counter and huffs with exhaustion. He can still feel the aching emptiness around his left ring finger. Ever since he took off that silver band, he's felt empty. He can't help but wonder what he did wrong. Was he not _good_ enough?

Pinching the burning tears out of his eyes, Louis examines his blueprints again. He needs to fix the roof, repaint the walls, rewire the entire cottage, and replace the rusted pipes. Needless to say, he has a lot of work on his hands. But— he actually _likes_ the stress. It distracts him from the heartbreak. And besides, he has three months to accomplish it all.

Abruptly, Louis's iPhone vibrates in the back pocket of his tight, black skinny jeans. He grumbles with annoyance before slipping it out and narrowing his eyes at the bright screen. It's his best mate, Liam Payne, whom Louis knows from work. Mr. Payne teaches geography and history, which isn't Louis's strong suit, but they get along fairly well. He considers him a close friend, rather than a professional colleague.

He slides his thumb over to answer. " 'ello?"

He hears Liam's crackling voice come through his speaker, but he can't decipher his words. Louis curses the shitty cell phone service.

"I can't hear ya', mate," Louis says loudly. In hopes of finding a stronger signal, he steps out onto the front porch again. Thankfully, the wind has died down and the sun has emerged from the dark, grey clouds. The sunlight glimmers beautifully over the wavy waters.

"You still there?" Liam asks, raising his voice.

Louis chuckles. "Yeah, I'm here. Sorry 'bout that."

"It's fine, Mr. Mal— I mean, Louis."

He pauses for a few seconds. "It's just Mr. Tomlinson now, Liam. No more hyphen."

That's one of the upsides of getting a divorce, Louis decides. The name Louis William Malik-Tomlinson was quite a mouthful.

"Right, sorry. It's just gonna take a while to get used to it," Liam apologizes.

"It's alright," Louis mumbles, moving around aimlessly. He steps off of the porch and starts walking down the worn-out path that leads to the beach. The damp sand squishes under his boots, creating small footprints. The signal is stronger towards the beach.

"Anyway, Mr. Horan told me that you moved away. Is that true?"

Louis falters. "Kinda. I just purchased a small cottage on the seaside, near Grimsby. It's just for the summer. I wanted to fix it up, y'know. For a profit."

Liam hums attentively. "You're not trying to run away from your problems, right?"

Louis scoffs at the accusation. "No. I just— I like keeping busy, y'know? Summertime is boring for us teachers."

"That's true. I just want to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine, honestly," Louis says, but it's completely a lie. He lost track of the amount of times he's cried himself to sleep.

"Alright, well. Maybe I'll come visit you sometime, yeah?"

"You should. It's absolutely beautiful."

He hears Liam fumble with his phone for a few seconds. "I should get going. Sophia and I are going out on another date tonight."

Louis smirks. "Really?"

"Really. I think she might be the _one_ , Louis."

"Well, I hope you're right. Text me later, okay?"

"Alright. Bye, mate."

Louis hangs up his phone and slides it back into his pocket. He came here for some alone time, after all. He wants to ignore technology and outside communication for as long as possible.  He lets his eyes flutter shut as he listens to the comforting sound of the sea. Waves, birds squawking, breeze whispering. It feels like Heaven after spending so much time in the bustling, busy downtown city.

He steps closer to the shore until the water laps against his rubbery boots. When he looks out towards the water, he sees a few spiky rocks emerging from the surface. He wonders what kinds of creatures must be able to dwell in these merciless conditions.

Suddenly, he hears a splash. His gaze shoots towards the water. He barely catches a glimpse of a green, scale-covered fishtail plunging into the waves. He takes a startled step backwards and clutches his chest, feeling his heart race.

He's never heard of a fish having such brightly-colored scales. Maybe this cottage is more peculiar than he previously thought.


	2. interaction

Sweat drips down Louis's forehead as he continues to peel off the old, rotted wallpaper. He uses a scraping tool to flake off the stubborn pieces. Beneath him, a blanket of pale, discolored paper chips coat the wooden floors like freshly-fallen snow. Apparently the previous owners loved floral patterns, as the wallpaper is decorated with red roses and green leaves.

In an attempt to fill the quietness, Louis had hooked up his iPhone to a small, portable speaker. He plays his favorite band, The Fray, on repeat whilst he works tirelessly in the summer heat. After the rainy wind storm passed, the sun came out and the clouds rolled away, leaving nothing but blue skies and burning light.

He hums quietly along to "Look After You." He remembers singing this song back when he was a teenager. He performed it for the school talent show, in front of everyone he knew. Back then, he was young and spirited and free. And now— well, now he's twenty-five years old and absolutely miserable.

Sighing, Louis considers taking a quick break. He wipes off his dusty hands before retreating to the kitchen. He finds his blue cooler on the floor, filled with beers, sodas, and water bottles. Until he fixes the broken electricity, he has to rely on unorthodox cooling methods. He wishes he could bat an eyelash to fix the entire cottage, but alas, it needs a _lot_ of work.

He pulls out a beer bottle and pops off the metal cap, which clatters to the floor. Condensation builds up on the side of the green glass. He takes a large swig before sighing with relief. That's exactly what he needed. He doesn't want to get _drunk_ , though, because working on an abandoned cottage can be quite dangerous in sobriety, let alone with intoxication. So he settles for just _one_ beer, no more, no less.

He decides to stop peeling wallpaper; instead, he wants to work on the damaged wiring. Having no electricity is proving to be very difficult. He fetches his toolbox and retreats to the dining room, where a small chunk of wall has been removed, exposing colorful wires. They're all tangled and frayed, showing thin, copper hairs. He grabs his pliers and begins rearranging and replacing the old, worn-out wires. He's thankful that his father is an electrician. Otherwise, he'd be completely lost.

After nearly two hours, he's fixed the lights in the dining room and kitchen. It's a small accomplishment, but at least it's _something_. Maybe he's not overestimating himself, after all. Maybe he's actually capable of doing this as a one-man task.

He purchased this property three weeks after his divorce. Since they split up in late May, Louis made the decision to put all his anger and sadness towards something positive during the summer months, rather than mulling around pointlessly. So he found this stranded cottage in the middle of nowhere, which the realtor had described as "hopeless junk." But Louis thought it had potential. It seemed as though the sea was calling his name, enchanting him to buy it, like a siren luring a lost sailor.

Huffing, Louis fetches his camera from his duffle bag, which lay carelessly on the filthy floors. He wants to take some before-and-after pictures, so he can see his progress over time. He quickly snaps a few photos of the barren living room, where the decaying carpet reeks of mold and dust. There's a large, beautiful window in the far corner that overlooks the sea, but it's currently held together with silver duct tape. Not very classy, he thinks.

He steps outside for a moment, deciding to take a picture of the cabin's exterior. The pebble-filled sand squishes beneath his rubber soles, crunching audibly. He squints at the screen and aims it towards the cottage. His presses the silver shutter button and holds it down, taking multiple pictures.

Eventually, he moves down towards the rocky shore. He wants to take some scenery photos to send to his mother, who convinced him to pursue this run-down cabin in the first place. So he stands on a tall, flat rock, which perches a few feet above the water. He gazes out towards the blue sea and captures a few pictures. When he looks back at the screen, he sees rippling waves and reflective sunlight. He could sit here for hours and take beautiful photographs.

But in the meantime, he has walls to paint, wires to cut, and leaky faucets to fix.

~

Louis's knuckles ache as he scrubs the tiled floors vigorously, cleaning off the layers of dirt, dust, and random spills. The sponge coats his petite hands with fresh-scented bubbles. The black and white tiles are slippery and wet, glimmering with sunlight. In fear of getting his clothes damp, Louis settled for a pair of tiny Adidas shorts and a black tank top. He can feel the humidity sticking to his bare skin and smooth, soft thighs.

He sighs and drops his sponge back into the sudsy bucket. He's spent the entire day tweaking wires, peeling wallpaper, and washing the floors. The cottage is slowly but surely starting to transform into something beautiful. And until he can fix the kitchen's electricity, he has to settle for canned foods and pantry snacks. Throughout the day, he's been clinging to tubes of barbecue Pringles and chocolate sweets.

The sound of a car pulling up the graveled driveway breaks his train of thought. His head snaps towards the window. He wasn't expecting company. He sees a shiny, black Porsche rumbling over the scattered stones and overgrown weeds. He'd recognize that car anywhere. It looks out of place next to the old, abandoned cottage.

Louis's hands ball into tight fists. "Are you fucking kidding me," he grumbles to himself. He stands up hurriedly and rushes outside. He lets the door slam loudly behind him, rattling in the faint breeze. Anger surges through his veins, making his body sweat even _more_. He stomps down the porch steps and storms over towards the luxurious Porsche.

"How dare you!" Louis nearly screams.

Zayn steps out of the car without saying a word. He flips up his sunglasses, gliding them on top of his head. He flashes Louis a grin with pearly white teeth.

"Leave!" Louis orders, pointing his index finger into his chest.

Zayn chuckles softly. Louis hates his unstoppable confidence. No matter what, his ex-husband always seems so smooth and unapologetic. Whilst Louis's entire life is crumbling down, Zayn is standing stronger than ever, as if nothing ever happened. As if they never broke apart in the first place.

"Calm down, babe," Zayn teases. The cute pet name rolls off of his tongue, burning with sarcasm and condescension.

Even though Louis hates him, he can't deny the fact that he's absolutely gorgeous. His black hair is slicked up with pink tips. His olive skin looks tanner from the summer sun, and his tattooed arms flex as he crosses his arms over his chest. From where he's standing, Louis can smell his familiar cologne. It brings back happy, sad, and agonizing memories.

"Don't call me that," Louis spits out. "I don't wanna see you."

Zayn rolls his eyes. "C'mon, love. You don't mean that."

"I really do, you prick," Louis growls. "How did you find me?"

Zayn shrugs as he kicks a stray pebble with his shoe. He doesn't even _care_ , and it drives Louis absolutely nuts. He's itching with frustration.

"Our bank accounts are still connected," Zayn explains softly. "I saw the payment you made on the cottage."

Louis scoffs. "Well, can you do me a favor and fuck off? I don't want you here."

Zayn ignores him, gazing up at the broken cabin. "Why'd you buy this piece of shit, anyway? It's totally worthless."

"That doesn't surprise me. You _never_ supported my decisions, anyway."

"Because your decisions are stupid, Lou. You never think things through."

Louis laughs bitterly. "That's rich, coming from you! Did you bloody plan ahead when you fucked that girl on _our_ couch?"

Zayn frowns. "I told you, I was drunk. We both were. It was a goddamn mistake."

"Yeah, and it was _my_ mistake to marry you."

"Louis—"

"Either you leave, or I call the cops for trespassing," Louis warns, voice harsh. "Your choice, mate."

Zayn throws his hands up in the air. "Can you calm the fuck down? I'm trying to apologize! I'm sorry, okay?"

"You have a funny way of showing it."

Zayn's jaw locks up. "I miss you," he chokes out, confidence dissolving. Louis can see a shred of vulnerability in his chestnut eyes.  It's barely there, but at least it's  _something_.  It's a tiny bit of regret.

Louis intakes a sharp breath. He doesn't respond for a few seconds. Instead, he glances around pointlessly, watching the waves lap against the shore, noticing the sun set into the horizon. He can't look at Zayn right now. It makes his chest ache.

"I don't think we'll ever get back together," Louis admits blatantly.

Zayn gulps. "I understand, but I— I just need your forgiveness. The guilt is killing me, Lou."

Louis blinks away the tears in his eyes. "I _might_ be able to forgive you someday, but in order for me to do that, I need you to give me some space."

Zayn's shoulders slump with disappointment. "But—"

"I think it's best if you just go," Louis interrupts, holding up his hand.

Zayn bites his lip. He reaches out to hold Louis's hand, to remind him of the love they once shared so deeply, but he flinches away. He awkwardly stuffs his hands into his pockets.

"Please go, Zayn," he mutters.

His ex-husband falters for a few seconds. He parts his lips to say something, probably another snarky comment about Louis's poor life choices, but then he silently climbs into his car. He starts up the engine, and Louis stares at him through his half-open window. His eyes cut like a dagger into his skull.

"Oh, and Z?"

He pauses with his hand on the shifter. Louis notices the floral tattoos on his knuckles and the pale stripe of skin on his left ring finger. "Yeah?"

Louis swallows the lump in his throat. "I hope she was worth it."

Zayn squints his eyes and resists the urge to argue. Instead, he shuts his mouth and drives away quickly, pressing his foot into the accelerator. His tires leave behind marks in the gravelly dirt. Louis watches as the exhaust from his car slowly floats away, twisting in the faint wind like a smokey ballet.

Eventually, the sound of his engine fades into silence. Louis stares down the empty driveway, where a canopy of trees provides shade and relief from the burning sun. The dry grass has overgrown, to the point where it tickles his ankles, and Louis figures he'll have to mow the lawn soon. He adds that to his mental to-do list.

Sighing with sadness, Louis retreats back to the beach to clear his jumbled thoughts. He stands on the rock pile again and overlooks the calm, soothing sea. The sun has started to set in the distance. Streaks of pink and orange paint the large canvas in the sky, reflecting over the smooth water. It almost looks like glass.

It's odd, Louis thinks. One minute, the sea is raging. It's furious with harsh waves, taller than himself, colliding against the sharp stones. And the next, it's a clean slate of calmness and serenity. He could spend his entire life here, watching the water's complex personality.

Louis huffs, propping up his elbows on his knees. He presses his face into his hands and stares into the darkness. He focuses on breathing for a few seconds. He wishes Zayn never found this cottage. It was supposed to be a private place, just for himself. It was supposed to be a place for healing, but then Zayn came back and picked apart his scabs again.

He hears a splash. Surprised, Louis looks up. The oxygen leaves his lungs instantly.

He sees a— well, he doesn't really know what it _is_ , actually. There's a boy wading in the shallow water, bobbing up and down with the calm ripples. He has long, brown hair that floats around beautifully, draping down his shoulders. His skin is as pale as porcelain, and his lips are as red as a rose. Louis can't help but notice the sharp greenness of his eyes, which look utterly startled.

"What the fuck?" Louis gasps, scrambling backwards, away from the shoreline.

The strange boy's eyes widen. His gaze moves up and down Louis's body, stopping momentarily at his legs and feet. He tilts his head curiously, but he doesn't say anything.

Suddenly, something swooshes through the cold water. Louis's heart skips a beat when he notices a large, fish-like tail swishing back and forth. It has multiple shades of green, ranging from pale mint to dark jade. It looks shiny, like it's covered in a protective coat of clear slime. The tail is long, at least four feet, and has a beautiful fin at the end.

Louis's icy eyes travel up its length until he reaches the boy's hips, where the tail fuses into his skin. His torso is half-submerged in the water, but he catches sight of three gashes along his rib cage. They look like gills, Louis supposes, and they flutter each time the boy breathes.

He doesn't know what to say. He blinks a few times, just to make sure he isn't hallucinating. The fish-boy stares back at him with amusement. A soft, pretty smile settles on his bubblegum lips.

"Hi," the mermaid croaks, breaking the silence.

Okay. So he can _speak_. 

Louis, on the other hand, cannot.

"Are you okay?" the boy asks. His voice is deeper than Louis anticipated. It sounds hoarse and incredibly attractive, almost addicting.

"You're a... mermaid?" Louis breathes out, still in shock.

The boy _giggles_. "I suppose so. I'm a boy, though."

Louis nods dumbly. He's _definitely_ a boy. Instead of boobs, he has pink, perky nipples and a flat chest. He can see a faint outline of abs and a sharp v-line that carves out his hips.

"I'm Harry," the mermaid introduces, arms fluttering in the water. He swims around aimlessly, in small circular movements, just to keep himself afloat.

"Are you... real?" Louis exhales.

Harry chuckles and pokes his tummy. He shrugs. "Well, I _feel_ real," he teases.

Louis shakes his head. "I don't understand. Mermaids aren't real; they're fantasy."

"That's what we _want_ you to think," Harry explains. "Well, most of us, anyway. I'm pretty curious about humans. You're very peculiar creatures."

Louis lets out a breathy, awkward laugh. "You're a bloody mermaid. You have a fucking tail."

"And _you_ have feet," Harry says cutely. For emphasis, he swims closer and points to Louis's small feet, which are hidden inside of his dirty, old Vans. Sand and dirt cover the black fabric and soles. Louis curls his legs up towards his chest, frowning silently.

"Aren't you going to tell me your name?" Harry prompts, raising an eyebrow.

He gulps. "I'm Louis."

"Louis," Harry echoes, smirking. "What a beautiful name. It suits you."

"Beautiful," Louis repeats, like he's hypnotized. He looks back at Harry's tail as it flicks through the water, creating small ripples. It's actually _real_.

Harry blushes. "Well, it's almost dusk. I have to return to the pod."

Louis furrows his brow. "Pod?"

"Yeah, y'know. My family."

"Oh," Louis says dryly. "I— um. Will I ever see you again?"

Harry's viridescent irises sparkle with anticipation. "Of course, Louis. This is my home, after all."

Without another word, he ducks beneath the murky waters and slowly swims away. Louis watches his tail swish from side-to-side, propelling him further. And just like that, he's gone, leaving nothing but wavelets behind.

Louis sits there until the sun fully sets, until the moon glows brightly, until the stars speckle the night sky. And when he finally falls asleep on that gross, yellow couch, he dreams of swimming with beautiful mermaids in the endless sea.


	3. reality

The sun beats down on Louis's neck as he rummages through his metal toolbox, causing various bits and pieces to jingle around loudly. When he finds his hammer with the rubber handle, he sighs with relief.  He crouches down on the porch and examines the loose, crooked board. It's an accident just waiting to happen. It's only a matter of time before he stubs his toe or trips.

Next to him, an old-fashioned boombox rests on the wooden railing, blasting radio music at full volume, interlaced with faint static. He presses down on the broken board and starts hammering it back into place. The loud _bangs_ echo around him, causing a flock of startled birds to erupt from a tall tree.

To test its stability, Louis stands up and stomps on the board. Thankfully, it doesn't squeak anymore. He wipes his dirty hands against his jeans and sighs happily. So far, fixing up this rustic cottage is proving to be quite easy. He already re-wired the electricity, stripped the old wallpaper, and installed his new refrigerator. He has a shipment of new windows arriving in a few days, which he plants to insert himself.

And with all this work, he's hardly had any time to think about Zayn. Which is a good thing. Dwelling on heartbreak could stall his progress.

Besides, he can't stop thinking about the creature he saw in the sea. He knows he was hallucinating because mermaids aren't real, but it seemed so _vivid_. He thinks it might've been dehydration causing hallucinations, due to the intense summer heat, but that seems unlikely. He made sure to drink plenty of water throughout the day.

But alas, that's the only logical explanation he can think of, so he accepts it.

Rubbing his head tiredly, Louis packs up his toolbox and walks back inside. The cottage still looks like a bare skeleton, with no furniture apart from the abandoned couch and splintered shelves. The air feels sticky and humid and smells like dust. Regardless, he knows this place has potential. He can feel it in his bones.

Briefly, he glances out the shattered window in the living room. He watches the fierce waves crash against the rocky shore, smashing on rocks with violence and energy. It's no wonder that the realtor described this property as "inhospitable." Even the toughest of sea-dwelling creatures could not survive these rough waters.

Louis huffs as he turns away from the window. He sets down his heavy toolbox, which leaves his arm aching from discomfort. His entire body feels sore. As a drama teacher, he isn't used to all this physical labor, and it's starting to take a toll on him. Perhaps he needs to take a break and relax. After all, he's been working on the decrepit porch all morning.

After rummaging through his duffel bag, he slips out of his dirty jeans and puts on some athletic shorts. They leave his silky thighs exposed, which have somehow lost their summer tan over the course of winter. He fetches a towel and starts trotting down to his private beach, crunching over stones and shellfish skeletons. His sandals flick sand up against his heels as he continues to walk down the steep hill.

Once he reaches the water's edge, he spreads out his towel over a patch of sand. He quickly removes his shirt, too, in fear of developing noticeable tan lines. He covers his eyes with his dark-tinted sunglasses and lays down gently, using his arms as a makeshift pillow. He lets his eyes flutter shut with gracefulness.

The blazing sun starts to warm up his skin. He listens to the faint roar of his radio, which he left blaring on his porch. He sees pretty patterns behind his closed eyelids as he turns his face up towards the sky. Just a few feet away, the harsh combers have settled into calm waves, just lapping against the shore. It puts his rattled mind at ease.

He realizes that perhaps he doesn't need Zayn to be happy, after all. Just a few months prior, he thought his life revolved around his husband. They did _everything_ together, from grocery shopping to getting high on the weekends. They hardly ever fought, spoke openly about their feelings, and had an incredibly healthy relationship while it lasted.

And maybe that's why it hurts so much. Their divorce hit Louis like a relentless tsunami— unexpected, ferocious, destructive.

He remembers how broken and shattered he felt when he walked in on Zayn having sex with that girl on their couch. It ripped apart his sanity. It took his heart and wrenched it like a wet towel. It sucked the air out of his lungs and left him completely speechless. He didn't get angry, and he didn't cry. He just felt _numb_.

Zayn tried to fix their relationship. He truly did. He got down on his knees and begged for forgiveness on several occasions, and as tempting as it was, Louis never forgave him. And the sad thing is, he didn't file for divorce because he was upset with Zayn for his affair. He did it because he knew he could never satisfy his husband, no matter how hard he tried.

Suddenly, Louis felt a splash of water hit his legs. He jolted up in surprise and blinked open his eyes, squinting through the blinding sunlight.

He nearly faints when he sees the mermaid boy wading in the water, bobbing up and down slightly. He has the prettiest smile on his pink, luscious lips. His hair looks like a waterfall of dark, wet chocolate. His green tail swishes back and forth through the shallow waters. As he breathes slowly, Louis can see his gills fluttering along his ribs.

"What are you doing?" Harry inquires, raising an eyebrow.

Louis doesn't respond. He just rubs his eyes with his knuckles, tries to reassure himself that he's hallucinating again. Did he drink enough water? He's gone through two full water bottles already, and it's only noon.

"You're not dreaming," Harry giggles cutely, like he read his thoughts. "I'm a mermaid."

Louis stares blankly. His eyes move from his head to the tips of his tail fins. Through the clear sea, he notices his green scales sparkling in various shades of emerald. It's absolutely beautiful. His tail puts all aquatic fish to shame.

"It's rude to stare," Harry teases.

Louis blinks a few times. "I— uh, sorry. I just can't believe you're..."

"Real?" Harry offers.

Louis nods. "Yeah," he says quietly, barely a whisper.

"Well, I can't believe _you're_ real," Harry muses. "I mean, I've heard of humans before, but I'm not supposed to go near them. You're the first one I've ever seen up close."

Louis gulps slowly. "Oh."

Harry smiles softly as he tucks his hair behind his ear. "Have _you_ ever seen a mermaid before?"

Louis bites his lip. "Um, no."

"Well, I promise we're not mean. You don't have to be afraid."

Louis nods slowly. Of course they're not dangerous; he's a mermaid, not the loch ness monster. He has perky nipples and pretty hair and flushed cheeks. Apart from his gills, he looks like a normal human from the waist up. A very _cute_ human.

"You keep staring at my tail," Harry notes, flushing.

Louis chuckles awkwardly. "Well, yeah. It's quite... interesting."

The mermaid boy smirks. "Do you wanna touch it?"

Louis has to bite back all of the sexual innuendos that immediately enter his brain. Instead, he just stands up weakly and steps closer to the water. His bare feet squish over the wet, stone-filled sand. He walks into the water, ignoring the sharp rocks that dig into his soles uncomfortably. He approaches Harry slowly, moving through the water cautiously, as if the tiniest movement might scare him off.  As if he's a timid, small guppy, rather than a full-grown mermaid.  

When the water touches mid-thigh, he's within arm's reach of the beautiful sea creature. Harry looks up shyly with gorgeous, glowing eyes. They're brighter than any human irises he's ever seen in his entire life. Perhaps they're fluorescent, like those jellyfish that glow in the dark.

Louis wishes he knew more about mermaid anatomy.

Wordlessly, Harry grabs his wrist. His fingers are webbed slightly, with thin skin connecting them. He pulls Louis's hand into the water and brushes it over his slimy tail, gliding above his smooth scales. Louis flinches a little out of surprise. It's softer than he anticipated.

"See?" Harry hums, moving his hand up and down. "I'm completely real."

Louis's mouth hangs open with shock. When Harry legs go, he carefully moves up to brush his fingers over his large gills, which cut into his torso. Harry giggles adorably and swats him away. For a second, Louis wonders if he hurt him.

"I'm sorry—"

"No, it's alright," Harry interrupts. "It just tickles."

Now that they're closer, Louis can see every concrete detail of Harry's body. His green scales fade into the pale skin of his pudgy hips, where his tail meets his upper-half. The fins at the end of his tail are curved slightly and reach a fine point at the tip. He looks like an enchanting fictional character, straight out of a Disney film.

"Can I touch your legs?" Harry wonders.

Louis's lips quirk up in a small smile. "Yeah, if you want."

So Harry brushes his slippery hand over Louis's legs. He feels the knob of his knee, the smoothness of his calf, and pokes each of his tiny toes with deep fascination. Louis has to bite back a snicker when Harry points to the tattoo on his ankle, a small 'x.'

"What's that?" he asks curiously.

"A tattoo."

"What's a tattoo?" Harry pesters.  The word is foreign to his seafaring vocabulary. 

Louis grins. "It's art that you put on your skin with ink."

Harry's eyes widen. "You did that to yourself?" he gasps.

Louis laughs and shakes his head. "Well, not technically. A professional did it."

"Why?"

"Because it looks cool," Louis shrugs. "I have lots, you see?"

Harry glances up at his chest. He has countless tattoos all over his caramel skin, from his collarbones to his wrists. It's incredibly beautiful. Harry has never seen anything like it before.  He especially likes the rope tattoo that curls around his wrist.  He's seen those knots on giant ships before.

"They're so pretty," he says breathlessly.

"You're calling _me_ pretty?" Louis scoffs. "You're a bloody mermaid."

Harry blushes and ducks his head. "Well, I suppose we all have our different definitions of beauty."

If that's the case, Louis thinks, Harry is a prime example of _ethereal_.

Harry glances up at the sky for a moment, then frowns. "I should go."

Louis's stomach sinks with disappointment. "So soon?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm not supposed to be here," Harry rambles. "If the pod knew I was speaking to a human, they'd banish me... or worse."

Louis's heart aches. He doesn't want Harry to leave. He wants to stay here forever, wading in the salty seawater, talking about their vastly different lives. Every word that leaves Harry's lips sends him into a deep trance of wonder. He hasn't felt this carefree since his troubling divorce.

"Promise to come back?" Louis begs desperately, touching Harry's soft arm.

"I promise, Louis."

And with that, Harry sinks back into the sea and swims away, leaving nothing but ripples in the dark water.


	4. perfection

Bare footprints press into the dark, wet sand as Louis walks across the shore.  The harsh wind whistles against his red-tinted ears, making his entire body shiver involuntarily.  Above him, the dull sun hides behind grey clouds, blocking out all the warmth.  He should probably have worn shoes, but being barefoot makes him feel liberated.

The waves are vicious and wild, pounding against the rocks with relentless power.  Louis just crosses his arms over his chest and tucks his hands into his knitted sleeves.  He keeps his gaze downward and stares at the gravely dirt. 

As he stands at the end of the beach, where the waves meet the sand, the cold water envelopes his small toes.  The iciness numbs his skin.  He gazes across the seemingly endless blue waters.  He can't see another piece of land, which makes him feel completely isolated. 

He's truly alone out here.

    It's very early in the morning, almost five o'clock, and the sun is slowly starting to ascend into the sky.  Louis couldn't sleep, kept awake with wild thoughts of mermaids, so he decided to watch the sunrise on the beach.  He holds a mug of warm, steaming tea in his hands.  He perches on a rock that towers above the water's surface and crosses his legs.

    He takes a slow sip, letting the warm liquid soothe his scratchy throat.  It tastes bitter and delicious at the same time.  He rubs his tired eyes and lets out a high-pitched, squeaky yawn.  He blinks to clear his blurry sight and watches the raging sea.  A flock of gulls rests on the beach nearby, ducking their heads to avoid the merciless wind. 

    A tangled mess of seaweed and stray litter collects on the seaside.  He wants to clean it up, to make the beach pretty again, but he's been too busy with fixing the cottage.  He spent the past three days repairing the broken windows and doors.  Now, the exterior looks even sleeker and shinier, with crystal glass and a beautiful arched door. 

    He hasn't seen Harry since their last encounter, when he touched his beautiful tail and became hypnotized by his beauty.  In all honestly, it still doesn't feel _real_.  He can't stop thinking about that beautiful creature.  His glowing green eyes haunted his dreams and filled him with wonder.  He wanted to know _so_ much. 

    Each evening, Louis waited at the beach for Harry's arrival.  He'd dip his toes in the icy water and search for any sign of green scales or luscious brown hair.  He'd stay out late until the sun sank into the horizon, leaving nothing but sparkling stars and a bright moon.  The loneliness was completely dreadful.  Texting his mates and video chatting with his mother didn't compare to real face-to-face interaction.  Harry offered some companionship, even just for a little while.

    Louis became fascinated with the thought of mermaids.  He remembers watching _The Little Mermaid_ with his younger sisters and giggling like a child.  The idea of having a tail and being able to roam carelessly in the gigantic, undisturbed ocean.  He can only dream of that kind of freedom.

    Harry's beauty captivated him, too.  His lips were always in a state of pink puffiness.  His long hair draped down his shoulders like a brunet curtain.  His skin was as pale as ivory, and just as valuable.  Louis wants to touch his unfamiliar body all over, roaming his hands up his soft curves and fluttering gills. 

    Sighing, Louis takes another gulp of his tea, which is starting to turn cold.  Harry promised that he would come back.  Louis doubts that a majestic being like Harry would lie— he's too _pure_ for lying— but he still feels a lingering uncertainty in his stomach. 

    Beams of orange light begin to peek out from the dark horizon.  Small puffs of white clouds turn golden with sunlight.  The sky morphs into a blanket of light blue as the sea glistens.  Louis just sits patiently, watching with amusement, witnessing the world unfold before him.  He picks up a stick with his free hand and traces random patterns in the sand.  With boredom, he finds himself drawing a beautiful mermaid tail. 

    Suddenly, he hears a bubbly giggle.  Louis's heart leaps as he looks up to see Harry wading in the water, which has become calm and smooth, almost like glass.  His face is half-submerged in the salty sea, leaving just his eyes exposed with a wet mop of hair.  His green tail swishes back and forth.  His verdant irises squint at Louis with curiosity.

    "Harry," Louis exhales with surprise.  He sets his mug aside on a flat piece of stone and leans forward.

    "Hi," Harry croaks, fixing his posture.  He sweeps his dripping hair out of his eyes, and for a moment, Louis catches sight of his webbed fingers.  Every part of his body is breath-takingly beautiful. 

    "I haven't seen you in awhile," Louis notes, clearing his throat.  "Are you okay?"

    Harry swims closer to the water's edge.  His movements are graceful and smooth, like an elegant swan.  "I'm alright."

    Louis nods silently.  "Alright," he echos.  He knows he probably sounds stupid, like he's incapable of composing proper sentences, but being around Harry sends him into a thoughtless trance.  Like he's drowning in Harry's allure.

    "The cottage looks nice," Harry says, nodding towards the cabin. 

    Louis grins with pride.  "Thank you."

    Harry smiles to himself and wades around in silence for a few seconds.  His long arms flutter through the water to keep himself afloat.  Louis chews on the inside of his cheek and watches wet droplets drip down his muscled body.

    "Will you come join me, Louis?"

    "In the water?"

    "Yes."

    Louis hesitates.  "It's quite cold, isn't it?"

    Harry shrugs.  "I dunno, is it?"

    Louis tilts his head with confusion.  Harry giggles.  Louis's heart probably skips a beat.

    "I'm cold-blooded," he clarifies. 

    Louis nods softly.  "Oh, right." 

He slides off of the rock and sits on the shore, dipping his feet in the water.  It's absolutely freezing.  He shudders faintly, and Harry just smiles smugly, revealing his perfect dimples.  He floats closer and sweeps his tail back and forth through the water.

"I'm sorry I haven't visited recently," Harry apologizes, voice soft and quiet.  "I'm just trying to be cautious.  I don't want my pod to become suspicious."

Louis bites his lip.  "Why aren't you allowed to visit humans?"

"It's dangerous."

"Yes, but... not all of us are evil."

"Of course not," Harry confirms, shaking his head.  "You're lovely."

Louis smiles to himself. "Thanks."

"When the weather is warmer, will you come swimming with me?" Harry inquires, eyes sparkling with awe.  He keeps staring at Louis's feet and legs, but he pretends not to notice.  It's cute.  Everything about Harry is cute, actually.

"Only if you promise to come on land with me," Louis rebuttals.  "I mean, as long as that's, like, a possibility.  Is it?"

Harry hesitates.  "Mermaids can survive out of water, at least for a little while."

Louis raises an eyebrow.  "Have you ever done it?"

"Sometimes I like to go on shore and rest in the sand.  It's just so _warm_ , y'know?  And the sea is so cold," Harry rambles.  "But I can't stay on land for long, otherwise my organs will shut down."

Louis gulps.  That sounds quite dangerous.  "I have a bathtub that you could stay in," he recalls.

Harry's eyes light up.  "What's that?"

Louis's heart flutters.  He's so innocent and curious.  "It's, like, a giant container of water that humans bathe in."

The mermaid grins widely.  "That sounds magical."

Louis snorts and curls his legs up towards his chest.  "It's not nearly as magical as you, Harry," he assures, trying to hide his blush.

Harry bites his lip timidly.  "Well, where I'm from, being a mermaid is normal.  _You're_ magical to me."

Louis hums.  "I suppose it all depends on perspective, doesn't it?"

Harry nods in agreement.  He swims up to a rock that pokes out of the water and sits on it, leaving the tip of his tail dipped in the sea.  His long hair drips down his chest and nearly covers his pink, puffy nipples.  His fins cut through the faint waves gracefully. 

"Can I ask you a question?" Harry prompts.

"Anything."

"Why did you move here?"

Louis pauses.  His mind instantly drifts to Zayn.  He remembers the burning sting of heartbreak, divorce, and distress.  Every time he thinks about his ex-husband, he feels completely worthless and unwanted, like he wasn't good enough.  Like their entire marriage was built on lies.  Which, perhaps it was, in retrospect.

Their relationship seemed completely healthy on the outside.  Louis put every ounce of love and trust he had into their marriage.  He thought they would live happily ever after and move to the suburbs and adopt cute children from poverty-stricken countries.  He thought they were perfect for one another.  He thought they were infinitely permanent. 

But when Louis saw Zayn touching and kissing that girl, his future plans all crumbled.  Nothing would ever be the same again.

"Never mind," Harry murmurs after a few long seconds of silence.  "You don't have to tell me.  You barely know me, after all."

Louis clears his throat.  "No, it's okay.  It's just— I recently got a divorce.  This cottage is sort of like my... getaway, I suppose.  A way to clear my thoughts."

Harry purses his lips with surprise.  "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Louis assures, waving his hand dismissively.  "He didn't deserve me, anyway."

Harry's eyes widen.  "He?"

Louis smirks.  "Yeah.  _He_.  His name's Zayn."

The mermaid nods slowly.  "Oh," he says at loss of words.

"Why are you so surprised?  Don't gay mermaids exist?" Louis asks, chuckling.

Harry snorts.  "Of course they exist.  Homosexuality is apparent in nearly every single animal species," he rambles. 

    Louis cracks a small smile.  He never anticipated that a mermaid would be so knowledgeable of intraspecific sexuality.  He never anticipated meeting a mermaid in the first place, actually.  But alas, the world is full of surprises.

    He hums absentmindedly, just to prove that he's still listening.  He keeps his gaze locked on Harry's slimy, green tail as it swishes through the water.  Whilst he meets Harry's bright eyes, he reaches over and picks up his mug of tea.  He takes a slow, delicious gulp to relieve his dry throat.  Talking to Harry is starting to take a toll on his voice.

    "What's that?" Harry says curiously, glancing at the mug in Louis's small hands. 

    "Tea."

    Harry nods slowly.  "Oh, yeah.  I've seen people on ships drinking that before."

    Louis raises an eyebrow.  "Do you stalk humans often?"

    "Only the cute ones."

    Louis blushes and ducks his head.  He doesn't say anything in response.  He just watches the wet sand that squishes between his toes. 

    "Do you want a sip?" Louis offers quietly, holding out the mug.

    Harry hesitates.  "Really?"

    "Of course.  I don't mind."

    Harry bites his lip bashfully.  "Okay."

    He swims towards the water's edge and hops up on a rock next to Louis, leaving his tail dangling in the salty sea.  He slowly takes the mug from Louis's small hands and raises it to his lips.  Louis notices his pale skin and the thin webbing between his fingers as they curl around the cup.  Blue veins decorate his flesh like tangled spiderwebs. 

    The sea creature takes a small sip, squints with contemplation, and swallows with a bitter look on his face.  Louis can't help but laugh.

    "You hate it," he scoffs.

    Harry shakes his head urgently.  "No!  No, it's just— different, I suppose."

    "You hate it."

    "Okay, yeah.  Maybe a little bit."

    Louis laughs happily, crinkles forming next to his pretty blue eyes.  "It's alright, Harry."

    "I've just never tasted anything like it before," he explains, passing back the mug.  "It's kinda... acidic and sharp.  And warm."

    "Well, what do you usually eat?"

    Harry shrugs.  "Seaweed and small shellfish, mostly."

    Louis makes a disgusted face.  He knows he shouldn't be surprised.  After all, what _else_ are mermaids supposed to eat in the wide, open ocean?  But regardless, he can't help but cringe at the idea of Harry snacking on live shrimp and slimy kelp.

    "It's not that bad," Harry assures, smacking his arm playfully. 

    Louis just grins and shakes his head.  He loves talking to Harry.  It feels so refreshing and carefree.  Their conversations always keep him on edge and leave him craving more knowledge.  He wishes he could sprout a tail and gills and travel the sea with him, leaving all his humanistic problems behind. 

    "Your eyes are really beautiful," Harry blurts out. 

    Louis inhales sharply at the sudden compliment.  "Thank you."

    "They're like the sea.  Really blue and deep, with light swirls of pretty waves."

    Louis can feel his face heating up.  Usually when people comment on his appearance, they say that he's hot or handsome, but _never_ beautiful.  It's reassuring to know that he's more than just toned biceps and a plump arse. He remembers when he first met Zayn and he called him "fit" as his voice dripped with alcohol. For some reason, Harry's compliments feel different. They're more genuine.

    "Your eyes are like land," Louis muses.  "They're so _green_ , you know?  Like a pretty meadow in the spring."

    Harry gives an adorable, dimpled smile and giggles.  He leans his head against Louis's shoulder.  Thankfully, he doesn't mind the wet droplets that drip onto his jumper.

    "Perhaps our eyes are like the link between our worlds," Harry says thoughtfully.  "Land and sea."

    Louis can smell the salty water on his skin.  He sits with Harry until the sky lightens up to a lovely shade of sapphire, and then the mermaid slips back into the ocean where he belongs.


	5. swim

Soapy sponges, cleaning supplies, and tattered rags litter the tiled floors in Louis's bathroom. The air reeks of an artificial freshness that burns his nostrils. He recently replaced the bulbs above the vanity, flooding the small room with yellow light. The walls are decorated with nautical accents, like the rest of his seaside cottage. A wooden anchor is pinned up with a rusted nail above the toilet. The boarder paper is covered with playful ships.

He wants to fix up the bathtub for Harry, in case he decides to come on land. So he re-caulked the tub's edges, unclogged the drain, and scrubbed off the mildew in the corners. He even bought some shampoo that smelled like an "ocean breeze," according to the blue bottle. He figured it might remind him of home.

Slowly but surely, Louis's cottage is starting to feel more familiar. He's become accustomed to the constant roar of the sea, the solitude, and the creaky noises that erupt in the middle of the night from old floorboards and rusted hinges. He still needs to replace the carpet in the living room and move in some more furniture, but he's already seen enormous progress after only two weeks.

Regardless, Louis has always been an extroverted person. He's loud, obnoxious, and not afraid to speak his mind. He likes making new friends, going out on the weekends, socializing. So needless to say, his loneliness and isolation is starting to take a toll on him. He looks forward to his intermittent conversations with Harry. It provides a sense of companionship that he can't find elsewhere.

But now, he hasn't seen Harry in three days. That doesn't seem very long, in retrospect, but for Louis it feels like an eternity. He knows he shouldn't worry, that Harry is probably just busy with his pod, but he misses him. He misses the scent of salty skin, the wetness of his hair, the touch of his silky scales.

Okay, maybe he's a little weak.

He sighs dramatically as he flops his yellow sponge in the bucket of lukewarm water. He runs his hands through his hair with frustration. Sometimes, he wishes he could go back to his old flat and spend his summer like a normal bloke— drinking, getting high, partying. But instead, he's stuck here with a broken cottage and a friendly mermaid. All because of Zayn fucking Malik.

Louis rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, suddenly feeling warm. He pulls out his phone from his back pocket and mindlessly scrolls through his texts. He remembers when he first split up with Zayn, he texted Louis with a constant thread of "I'm sorry" messages, interlaced with some excuses and lame explanations. Louis blocked his number after a while, in fear of forgiving him. It was too tempting.

He squints at a new message from Liam, reading, _Hey, Lou!!! Wanna have a drink tonight at the pub? Miss you!_

Louis bites his lip. Part of him wants to stay here at the cabin in case Harry decides to swim ashore and pay him a visit. The other part of him wants to go out and get drunk and forget about his mermaid fantasies and his horrible ex-husband. After a few seconds of contemplation, he chooses the latter. A little social interaction never killed anyone.

~

"It's not like I don't _want_ to start a new relationship someday," Louis drawls out, taking another sip of his beer. It tastes kind of fruity, with a hint of orange. The condensation on the tall bottle leaves his hands feeling wet. "I'm just not looking for anyone right now."

Liam hums attentatively. He swirls his tumbler glass, watching the ice slide around with a bit of whiskey at the bottom. The watch on his wrist is obnoxiously large, and it clanks against the bar's surface as he sets down his drink.

"Well, let me know when you're ready to find Mr. Right. I'm an excellent wingman," Liam insists, smirking.

Louis scoffs. "You're awful."

"No, I'm not."

"Then remind me again why you're single?"

Liam wrinkles his nose in protest. "For your information, Sophia and I are actually exclusive now. I asked her to be my girlfriend."

"Oh, really?"

"Really. She's amazing, mate. We've had sex at _least_ ten times and—"

"Spare me the details, please," Louis interrupts, smacking his arm playfully.

Liam just laughs and shakes his head. He gulps down the last sip of his whiskey. In front of them, a football match plays across a flat screen TV, which hangs over a broad selection of bottled alcohol. They can hear the constant _clack_ of billiard balls rolling across the nearby pool table. A constant blur of mindless chatter fills the over-crowded bar. The stool beneath Louis's bum is unbearably uncomfortable, but alas, he doesn't want to complain about his arse pain in front of his best mate.

"So how's the cottage coming along?" Liam asks, breaking into the inevitable conversation.

Louis shrugs. "Fine, I guess. 's going quicker than I expected."

Liam frowns. "But doesn't it get lonely out there?"

"No, not really."

"I'd have cabin fever if I were you, mate."

Louis chuckles. "I actually met a friend, so there's no need to worry." He decides not to mention the fact that his new "friend" happens to be a fantasy sea creature. He doesn't want to make Liam think he's crazy and, in all honesty, he still has to convince himself that he's sane. That Harry is actually a _real_ mermaid.

"A neighbor?" Liam guesses.

Louis bites his lip. "Sort of. His name's Harry."

"Harry," Liam repeats, eyes crinkling. "He sounds posh."

"He's not posh," Louis snickers. "He's actually really sweet and down-to-earth."

Liam's brown eyes light up with excitement. "Is he fit?"

"Shut up, Liam. It's not like that."

"So he's fit, then."

Louis's shoulders slump with defeat. "Maybe a little bit," he confesses, trying to hide his pathetic blush.

"Oh, how old is he?" Liam presses, poking Louis's stomach excitedly. He gets rather handsy when he's tipsy. "Where's he from?"

Louis chews on the inside of his cheek. "Erm, I actually don't know how old he is. And he's from... far away."

"Far away," Liam mocks. "Sounds mysterious."

Louis smiles smugly and takes another sip of his beer. "You have no idea, mate."

"Well, you'll have to introduce us someday," Liam persists, a grin tugging on his plump, pink lips.

Louis shakes his head. "I dunno, Li. It's... complicated."

"Complicated?"

"Yeah, Harry's just kinda... shy."

He instantly thinks about Harry's bashful nature. He always flushes whenever Louis compliments his pretty tail, gorgeous eyes, or flawless skin. His voice can be rough sometimes, like a tormented storm, but it can also be a soft, soothing wave. His giggle never fails to erupt butterflies in Louis's stomach. Every part of him takes his breath away.

"Well, you're quite good at bringing people out of their shells, Mr. Tomlinson."

Louis feels a twist in his gut. He's become accustomed to hearing "Malik" tacked on in front of his name. Without it, it almost sounds... empty.

He calls over the scantily-clad bartender with perky tits and requests another beer. He drinks until all his thoughts of Zayn dissolve away.

~

The following day, Louis sits on his private beach and watches the sunset. It's abnormally hot for early summer, allowing him wear a simple pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt. He feels the warm breeze brushing through his hair as he dips his toes in the water. As he gazes out towards the distant horizon, he searches for any sign of marine life. For any sign of Harry, specifically.

He threads his hands through the gravelly sand, watching as the grains slip through his fingers. Beautiful ribbons of purple and pink swirl across the canvas sky, reflecting in the dark sea. Gulls flock above him, creating pretty bird-shaped silhouettes. He takes out his phone and snaps a few pictures of the marvelous sunset.

He still feels a little buzzed, but not from the beer. He's drunk on excitement and infatuation. He wonders how mermaids have managed to stay a secret for so long. He figures that they're clever enough to understand how to avoid humans. And besides, ninety-five percent of the ocean is still unexplored.

He can't explain his feelings for Harry. He feels like a sailor hypnotized by a siren's deep trance. He wants to know everything about him— his favorite food, his favorite color, his favorite aquatic flora. He wants to fill a bath will bubbles and spend hours with Harry, letting the air steam up with vanilla scent.

"Louis!"

With a startled jolt, Louis looks up to see Harry wading in the water, a smile spread across his lips. His long hair drapes down his shoulders, so wet it almost looks black. His cheeks are flushed pink, like vibrant coral, and his lips are red and glistening. His sparkling green tail sweeps through the dark, salty water. Louis focuses on his pretty fins, which are a light shade of minty green, almost translucent. As he bobs up and down in the water, he watches his fluttering gills.

"Did I scare you?" Harry laughs, swimming closer to the beach.

Louis smiles timidly. "Maybe a little bit."

"Sorry. I know most humans are intimidated by sea monsters," he teases. He sits up on a rock, leaving his tail half-submerged in the water. He blinks his dark, damp lashes at Louis, making his heart quiver. His breath hitches. God, he's so adorable.

"You're not a monster," Louis snickers. "You couldn't hurt a fly."

"What's a fly?"

"Never mind. It doesn't matter. The point is, you're _not_ scary."

Harry crosses his arms over his chest, faking a pout. "For your information, I can be very scary," he insists, flashing his sharp teeth. They're more pointed than human teeth. It'd probably be intimidating if it weren't for his cute dimples.

"Wow, I'm trembling with fear," Louis says sarcastically, shoulders bobbing up in a silent laugh.

Harry just rolls his eyes. "Whatever, Louis. I came here because I _missed_ you, but I guess I'll just leave—"

"You missed me?" Louis grins.

"Of course I did. You're very intriguing, Louis."

"Likewise."

Harry hums and glances down at Louis's small feet, watching as the water laps over his toes. He looks up shyly, meeting Louis's sapphire eyes. Land and sea. Earth and water. It's almost too good to be true.

"Will you come swimming with me?"

Louis nods instantly. He stands up and slips off his shirt, leaving it discarded in the sand. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Harry staring at his bare chest, raking over his torso. The mermaid becomes entranced by his tanned skin, body hair, and gorgeous tattoos. He's never seen skin so gorgeous, almost like caramel. All mermaids have cold-tinted flesh with blue undertones, but Louis looks _warm_ , like the sun.

Next, Louis slides off his joggers, leaving only his boxers. He hides his blush as he steps into the sea, bare feet crunching over scattered rocks and slimy weeds. Harry watches him fondly, admiring his ungraceful movements. The water feels colder as he ventures further into the deep. He stops when the water reaches mid-thigh and stares at Harry, who still sits patiently on the rock.

"Is it cold?" Harry inquires, sliding off the algae-covered rock. He slips back into the water comfortably, swimming around, moving his arms. His webbed fingers glide through the sea gracefully, propelling himself. He wades next to Louis, bobbing up and down in the gentle waves.

"No, it's fine," Louis shrugs. To prove his point, he sinks down to his shoulders and swims around clumsily. The tips of his hair become wet and dark.

"C'mere," Harry chuckles, grabbing Louis's dainty wrist.

He guides him out deeper, until his feet can't touch the bottom, and he clings to Harry to keep himself afloat. He laughs nervously when he sees nothing but darkness beneath him. God, the ocean is a scary place. His paranoid mind wonders what kinds of deathly creatures could be lurking below. But, even though they barely know each other, he trusts Harry to keep him safe.

"Isn't it nice?" Harry murmurs. He swims away from the shore, venturing into the unknown. Louis anchors himself to Harry's bicep, clinging to him like his life depends on it. The water must be at least twenty feet deep, Louis thinks. It's terrifying.

"Um, yeah," Louis croaks. Harry pretends not to notice the tremble in Louis's voice.

"Can you open your eyes underwater?" Harry asks, genuinely curious.

Louis frowns. "Some people can, but it kinda hurts my eyes. Stings a little."

"How long can you hold your breath?"

"I dunno. Thirty seconds or so?" Louis guesses, biting his lip.

"Well, c'mon, then," Harry smirks. "Let's go for a quick dive."

Louis gulps and attaches his hands to Harry's broad shoulders. Louis inhales a sharp breath and pinches his eyes shut. Harry dips under the water, letting the sea swallow them whole. He sees darkness behind his eyelids as they glide through the frigid water. He feels nothing but Harry's soft skin and his lungs constricting with each passing second.

They're zipping through the sea rapidly, and Louis can feel Harry's tail spurring them forward. It's powerful. Everything about Harry is powerful, actually. He's strong and gracefully delicate at the same time.

When they emerge to the surface again, Louis gasps instinctively, sucking in a deep breath of air. He coughs a little and rubs his eyes with his knuckles. When his blurry vision focuses again, Harry looks worried.

"Are you okay?" he asks, squeezing Louis's cold, bony hands.

"I'm fine," Louis promises, clearing his throat. "It's really beautiful out here, Harry. Just like you."

Harry ducks his head, blushing. "Shut up."

" 's true."

Harry just laughs and guides them back towards the shallow water. When Louis can touch his feet to the bottom again, he lets go and starts swimming on his own, floating on his back. Harry swims next to him and wipes his hair out of his eyes.

"Will you come on land with me sometime?" Louis asks, squinting through the darkness. The sun has long since disappeared from the sky, leaving nothing but blackness and a bright, glowing moon with speckled stars. Distantly, he can see the dim yellowish glow of his cabin's porch lights. "Let me show you what it's like to be on land, yeah?"

Harry nods eagerly. "Yeah, Louis, I— I'd really love that."

"Alright, then," Louis giggles, ruffling a hand through his wet hair. "I'll see you later, fish boy."

Harry grins and watches Louis climb ashore, water dripping down his tanned skin. He instantly wraps himself up with a fluffy towel that he left on the beach. He scoops up his clothes in his arms.

"Have a good night, Louis," Harry says, eyes twinkling in the moonlight.

"You too, Harry."

He walks uphill towards his cottage with wet sand clumped between his toes. He falls asleep whilst staring out of his bedroom window, overlooking the sea. He wonders if Harry is thinking about him, too.  


	6. relax

Louis grew up in a small suburban house with six other people, all sharing two bedrooms and a single bathroom. Needless to say, it was overcrowded and cramped. He usually slept in the living room on a lumpy sofa whilst his four younger sisters stayed in their princess-themed bedroom. He can still remember the uncomfortable cushions and the hard armrest that acted as his makeshift pillow. It always smelled like cigarette smoke and dust.

He remembers the rare occasions that he'd wash his hair in the kitchen sink on hectic mornings. Sometimes, his sisters took too long to get ready and left the bathroom unavailable. He remembers the extreme lack of privacy, the openness, the vulnerability of sleeping next to rocking chairs and china cabinets. He loves his family with all his heart, but back then, their living conditions were far from ideal.

Perhaps that's why Louis felt so attracted to the seaside cottage. It offered complete privacy and isolation. He had his own master bedroom and two guest rooms, giving him plenty of space to roam freely. He didn't have to worry about his sisters stealing his belongings. He didn't have to worry about Zayn littering his vanity with hair products and half-empty bottles of rich cologne.

When he first purchased the cabin, he couldn't wait to live alone. He wanted to disconnect from the rest of the world and focus on finding his own happiness. He loved the idea of having a king-sized canopy bed all to himself. He could follow his own schedule and his own desires, regardless of what his family or ex-husband thought.

Unfortunately, being alone is a double-edged sword. It brings freedom, of course, but it also brings sadness and loneliness. Sometimes, Louis misses waking up next to another person. He misses the warmth of body heat, the tickle of hair under his chin, the soft breathing and faint snoring to lull him to sleep. The silence can tear him apart at times.

But he can always rely on the sea's raging waves to fill the bitter quietness. He likes to sit on the beach and sink his toes in the sand, listening peacefully. The water, the birds, the whistling wind— they all make him feel a little less alone.

Currently, Louis rests on the rocky shore with his phone pressed against his ear. He's listening to his mother, Jay, talk about her pregnancy. Ever since she announced she was having twins, she's been drowning Louis with sonogram updates.

"When are you coming to visit?" Jay asks abruptly, deciding to change topics. In the background, Louis can hear his sisters and stepfather chatting.

"I dunno," Louis says passively, staring at the gravelly sand. There's a few clumps of seaweed washed ashore, interlaced with litter and pieces of driftwood.

"We all miss you so much, Lou," she sighs, muffling the speaker with her breath.

Louis bites his lip. "I've just been... busy."

"Busy with that rubbish cottage?" she chuckles. Louis doesn't respond. "You're wasting money, Lou. It's not worth it. That place is a dump."

"It's _my_ money, Mum."

"I'm just trying to help you."

"I'm fine," Louis bites back, gazing out across the open water. The waves are smooth and calm, almost like rippled glass, and the sun shines brightly in the azure sky. The air smells like salt and fish and freshly-fallen rain.

"Perhaps we should come and visit you soon," Jay hums thoughtfully. Louis can feel the guilt-trip already. "The girls really miss their big brother."

Louis frowns. "Yeah, maybe."

"We haven't seen you since— well, y'know."

"Since the night I caught Zayn cheating on me?" Louis clarifies, voice sharp. "I know, Mum. No need to sugarcoat it."

He remembers that night with untainted clarity. There were so many emotions going through his head after he stormed out of their home— anger, heartbreak, sadness, confusion. He couldn't stop thinking about Zayn hovering over that girl, kissing her like he _loved_ her, as if he never loved Louis that much.

He drove to his mother's house in the middle of the night, speeding down the motorway beyond the limit. His vision was blurred with tears. Zayn kept calling his phone, begging him to come back, so he turned it off and tossed it in the backseat. And when he finally arrived at his mother's house, he simply curled up in her arms, despite being in his mid-twenties, and sobbed like a toddler. And the worst part is, his sisters saw him like that. They saw him in his most fragile state. He was supposed to be their role model.

His mother sighs quietly, bringing his brain back to the present. The faint sound crackles in Louis's ear. "Okay, love. Whatever you say."

He hates this. He hates feeling like the _victim_. The poor husband who was shattered by an unfaithful, adulterous partner. Truthfully, he doesn't feel like a heartbroken divorcee anymore. He sees it as a blessing in disguise. Knowing that Zayn was a cheater helped him understand that their relationship was far from perfect.

"I gotta go," Louis lies, keeping his voice quiet and low.

He can practically see Jay's frown. "Love, it's not healthy to isolate yourself like this."

"I'm not isolating myself."

"I'm just worried about you, Lou," his mother admits sadly. "You're spending so much time _alone_. You've always been so social and outgoing."

Louis nibbles on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. "I'm fine," he promises, trying to make his tone sound calm and composed.

"You're not fine! You just got a _divorce_ , Louis. You were with Zayn for more than five years. You can't keep pushing those emotions aside."

Louis scoffs. "Why not? You weren't heartbroken when you divorced my father, right?"

"That's different, Lou. It was a mutual decision. Your father didn't _cheat_ on me."

"Right, well. Zayn's a dick. I don't know what else you want me to say," Louis grumbles bitterly. He kicks a wet stone with his bare toe, flicking it into the water. A few seconds of silence pass between them. "I'll talk to you later, Mum. Bye."

He hangs up without another word and tucks his phone back into his pocket. He stares down at his bare ankles, where his rolled-up trousers leave his caramel skin exposed, and watches the waves lap over his feet. It's mid-afternoon and the sun is at its peak, causing beads of sweat to form on the back of his neck. The water temperature feels milder, almost lukewarm in shallow areas.

Waiting for Harry has become part of his everyday routine. Even when Harry doesn't visit, it's nice to sit and relax, to take a break from working on the cabin. He never knows when the mermaid boy will show up— it's completely random and unpredictable. But perhaps that's why Louis feels so intrigued by him. He keeps him on the edge of his seat.

But sometimes, he wishes they could make arrangements. He wishes they could talk constantly, texting and calling, like _normal_ friends. He hardly knows anything about Harry, despite seeing him nearly every other day. But unfortunately, mermaids don't have cellphones.

Hah, Louis thinks. _Shell_ phones.

He knows he should probably stop waiting around and start fixing the cottage. There's still a lot of work that needs to be done. He has to install new carpet, replace the rotten hardwood floorboards in the dining room, and get rid of that ugly yellow couch. Plus, he wants to call an exterminator to kill all those disgusting ants that keep crawling all over the kitchen.

But alas, the sea is so soothing, and his brain is overflowing with thoughts of Harry. Seeing a mermaid is a once in a lifetime opportunity. He might as well take advantage of it.

So he waits, and waits, and waits. Nothing. Not even a wandering gull or the ripple of a tiny minnow. The sea seems lifeless, dead, and leaves Louis feeling completely empty and lost. He remembers swimming with Harry and clinging to his shoulders, relying on his powerful tail to push them along, feeling the smoothness of his slimy scales. He couldn't have possibly imagined that. It was too _vivid_.

When his wristwatch reaches dinnertime, he stands up, brushes off his sandy knees, and retreats back to his cottage with his head hung low.

He walks up the porch and steps inside, listening to the familiar _creak_ of the front door. The cabin provides an escape from the blistering heat. He wipes off his bare feet on the scratchy welcome mat and looks around, placing his hands on his hips. The living room walls are coated in a fresh coat of paint, a nice beige colour that matches the outside of the cottage. Mysterious stains splatter across the old carpet. The air smells musty, overclouded with the artificial scent of clean cotton air fresheners.

His blue eyes fall to the disgusting couch that rests against the back wall. Perhaps he should put it in the back of his pickup truck and take it into town. He could donate it to a charity or simply leave it at the dump, but he can't possibly carry it all by himself.

With a reluctant sigh, he takes out his phone and dials Liam's number.

"Hey," Louis says shyly after he picks up. "I need your help, Li."

~

"This place is a dump," Liam chuckles, walking around aimlessly through the tight hallway that leads to Louis's bedroom. It's a large square room with a huge bed in the center, covered up with tangled sheets and lumpy pillows. The windows lack curtains, and the grey carpet makes the atmosphere feel dull and gloomy.

Louis rolls his eyes. "You sound like my mum."

"She's a lovely lady."

"And you're an asshole."

"Ouch," Liam teases, placing his hand over his heart. "I'm so offended, Lou."

Louis just scoffs and elbows him playfully. "Shut up, Li. Enough with the self-guided tour. I need you to help me move that stupid couch."

The brown-eyed man sighs quietly. "I don't understand why you're fixing this cabin in the first place. I mean, is it even worth it?"

Louis bites his lip thoughtfully. Liam doesn't quite understand why he's _really_ fixing this rundown cottage. It's freedom, a distraction, a way to give his life some sense of purpose. But he can't possibly verbalize his thoughts, so he just shrugs carelessly.

"I dunno, Liam."

"Well, if you ever go bankrupt, I suppose you always have your rich ex-husband to fall back on," Liam teases.

Louis frowns. "Zayn isn't rich; his _parents_ are."

"Yeah, whatever," Liam huffs. "Let's just move this damn couch."

They trudge out to the living room and grab the opposite ends of the lemon-coloured sofa, lifting up with aching biceps and tightened knuckles. Louis guides them outside, barely squeezing through the doorframe, and slowly brings it down the steps. Liam bites his tongue in concentration.

The load the worn-out couch into the back of Louis's rusty pickup truck. Liam sighs with relief and wipes his hands on his jeans, sighing. Louis grins and shuts the tailgate.

"Thanks, mate," Louis hums softly, patting the metal side of his dusty red truck. "I appreciate it."

"No problem. I can imagine cleaning up this place isn't an easy one-man task," Liam admits. "Perhaps that's why you need someone here with you, yeah? Like a boyfriend?"

Louis groans with annoyance. "I don't need a boyfriend right now, Liam. I just recently got a divorce."

"Which is exactly _why_ you need a boyfriend."

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure? 'Cause I heard the school's music teacher is gay."

"Nick?"

"Yeah, Nick. He's cute, isn't he?"

"He's not my type," Louis shrugs.

Liam taps his chin thoughtfully. "What about that boy you were talking about at the bar? What was his name? Harold? Henry?"

"It's just Harry," Louis chuckles, shaking his head. "And I think he wants us to be platonic friends."

"He's not into men?" Liam guesses with a disappointed frown.

"He's just... different," Louis says simply. He quickly glances towards the shore, as if he's expecting to see Harry there, waiting patiently in the water. But the sea looks as empty as before, a clean slate of lifeless blue.

"Well, I should get going," Liam admits, looking at the setting sun. "You sure you don't need any help bringing the couch into town?"

Louis waves his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I'll bring it in tomorrow. All the shops are closed by now, anyway."

"Alright, Louis. I'll see you later, okay? Ring me if you need anything," Liam says with a soft smile. He gives Louis a quick hug and climbs in his luxurious car. He drives away without another word, disappearing down the gravelly path that weaves through the dense trees.

When he can no longer hear the purr of Liam's engine, Louis walks back into the cottage and makes a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a handful of barbeque crisps on the side, complete with a fresh bottle of beer. He sits alone at his dining room table and eats in silence. As he munches on his food, he can't help but stare out the clear window and watch for any signs of marine life.

Without even knowing it, Harry has Louis wrapped around his little finger. Or, more specifically, his webbed finger.

~

The next morning, Louis awakes to the sound of his name. It's a distant shout, muffled and barely audible. He jolts up in surprise and looks around cluelessly, searching for the familiar voice. He pushes the sheets off of his body and stands up with wobbly knees. He's only wearing boxers, so he crosses his arms over his chest, rubbing the goosebumps on his arms.

"Louis!" the voice shouts again. It sounds like Harry. He immediately panics and worries for his safety. "Louis, where are you?!"

It's coming from outside. Louis makes a confused noise in the back of his throat and waddles out to the front door. He steps onto the porch and squints towards the shore, adrenaline pumping in his veins. He spots Harry's blurry figure sitting on a rock in the shallow water. From this distance, he looks like an ambiguous cloud of pale porcelain, chocolatey hair, and green scales.

He immediately rushes down the steep hill that leads to the seaside, not caring about the cold air numbing his bare toes. His hairs stand on end, both from nervousness and the chilly weather. He finds Harry with puffy cheeks and watery eyes, flapping his tail in the water. There's a rope fishing net wrapped around his green fins, restricting his movements.

Louis gasps and walks into the water, up to his ankles. "Harry, what happened?"

Harry sniffles. "I was on my w-way to visit you, and there was a piece of fishing net in the water, but I didn't see it, and it just— I'm caught," he stutters, choking down his sobs.

Louis frowns and crouches slightly, examining the net. It's tangled around his teardrop-shaped fins at the end of his tail. He can barely move at all. It's a miracle he was able to swim ashore without any complications.

"I've got you," Louis hushes, picking apart the netting. Harry fidgets slightly and jolts his tail in fear. He rubs his palm over his scales soothingly, trying to calm him down. "Just relax, okay? I need you to stay still."

Harry gulps and nods. Louis slowly untangles the net, biting his lip to focus, and slips it off of his tail with ease. He sighs with relief and tosses it carelessly on the beach. Harry's bottom lip wobbles as he rubs his eyes with his knuckles.

"Thank you," Harry hiccups. "I was s-so scared. It was really hard to swim, and I could hardly come up for air, and I thought—"

"Hey, you're alright," Louis reassures, rubbing his thumb over his damp cheek. It's difficult to differentiate between water droplets and tears. "You're okay now. I'm here."

Harry whimpers and buries his face in Louis's neck, nuzzling his nose between his collarbones. He smells like lingering cologne and day-old shampoo. Harry's cold, webbed fingers grip his sides eagerly. His touch feels electric and tingly.

"Do you want to come inside with me, Harry?" Louis inquires, keeping his voice quiet.

Harry pauses. "You don't mind?"

"Of course not," Louis says, shaking his head. "I think you deserve a relaxing bath after all you've been through."

Harry grins, showing his adorable dimples. "Okay."

Louis lifts him up with all his strength, carrying him bridal-style with his right arm supporting the weight of his tail and his left pressed against his back. Harry giggles childishly as Louis huffs and puffs up the steep hill towards the cottage. The mermaid boy tucks his face into the side of his neck. For a moment, Louis almost thinks he feels his wet, pink lips press against his skin. But maybe he's delusional.

After all, he _is_ carrying a mermaid— a mythical creature.

He opens the propped door with his foot and slips inside. Harry looks around the room with amazement, like a newborn baby seeing the world for the first time. He glances across the freshly-painted walls, the white ceiling, the dirty carpet, the dust bunnies collecting in the dark corners.

"Wow," Harry says, voice hoarse. "This is so—"

"Disgusting?"

"Beautiful," Harry rebuttals, firm and serious.

Louis just shakes his head fondly. "Let's get you in the tub, love."

He carries him into the bathroom and sets him down gently in the tub. He can't move much, but at least he's safe. He turns the knob towards a desirable temperature, closes the drain, and lets the water fill up around him. Harry pops up his tail on the opposite edge of the tub and smiles. He rests his elbows on the sides comfortably.

"This is so magical," Harry says with disbelief, watching the warm water pour from the silver spout. "Where does it come from?"

"From the city," Louis chuckles. He sits on the floor next to the tub. His navy blue boxers are far from comforting, and the tiles feel like cold ice beneath his exposed thighs.

When the water level rises above the gills on his ribcage, Louis shuts it off. Harry sighs happily as the steam curls around him, making his cheeks pink and pretty.

"This is so relaxing," he hums, dark lashes fluttering like butterfly wings. "Thank you, Louis. For everything."

Louis smiles in return and squeezes his hand, smoothing over the soft webbing between his fingers. He can't believe he has a beautiful mermaid sitting in his bathtub. It all seems too good to be true. He thought these types of mythical creatures only existed in silly fairytales.

But perhaps his life is becoming one. 


	7. unwind

Steam floats through the room like a warm blanket, fogging up the mirrors and sticking to Louis's caramel skin. The bubbles in the tub are slowly fizzling away, leaving Harry's green tail exposed in the water. The soap smells heavenly, like sugary vanilla. Harry feels overwhelmed by all the new sights, smells, and sounds whirling around him like a hurricane. He wants to explore everything, but unfortunately he's confined to the porcelain walls of Louis's bathtub.

Harry scoops up a handful of white bubbles with curiosity sparkling in his eyes. He raises his palm to his face cautiously, as if the foam might hurt him. When he decides it's safe, he leans in and sniffs the bubbles, inhaling sharply, and lets out a happy sigh.

"Everything smells _so_ good," Harry exhales, lashes fluttering.

Before Louis can reply, Harry sticks out his tongue and tries to eat the bubbles. Out of surprise, Louis gasps and swats his hand away. The white froth falls off his palm and sinks back into the foggy water, turning opaque from the dirt on Harry's tail.

"No! Harry, you don't _eat_ it," Louis says urgently.

The mermaid blushes adorably. "Oh, um, sorry. They just smell really yummy."

Louis laughs, crinkles forming next to his eyes. "It's okay, darling. They're supposed to smell good, but they're not for eating"

"Then what are they for?"

"They make your skin smell good."

Harry grins wide with dimples. "Do _I_ smell good?" he ponders.

Louis shrugs as he scoots closer to the tub's edge. He leans in and nuzzles his nose into the crook of his neck, making him giggle and flinch away.

"You're silly," Harry chuckles, rolling his eyes.

"Says the mermaid sitting in my bathtub."

"Says the human who invited a mermaid to sit in his bathtub."

"Touché."

Harry just smiles and shakes his head. His chocolatey hair is slowly drying out, having been exposed to air for nearly an hour. Pretty ringlets are starting to form around his face like a curly frame. The water's surface touches right above his nipples, leaving his flittering gills to breathe in the tub.

Abruptly, he grabs a bottle of shampoo from the tub's ledge and examines the blue label. He flicks off the plastic cap and smells it. His nose wrinkles. Louis takes that as a bad sign.

"This does _not_ smell like the ocean," Harry hums, tapping the bottle that reads, _Ocean Breeze_. It's covered in pictures of palm trees and white, sandy beaches.

"Oh, really? Then what _does_ the ocean smell like?"

"Like fish pee."

A look of disgust crosses Louis's face. "Ew."

Harry just smiles goofily and grabs another bottle. It's one of Zayn's "manly" body washes that somehow ended up in Louis's possession. He can't bring himself to use it because it smells like _him_ , even though he truly likes the scent. It's like a combination of cinnamon and clean-scented linens. Regardless, that particular smell always reminds him of his ex-husband— their years spent together, memories, heartbreak.

"You really like those, don't you?" Louis inquires, pushing his sad thoughts to the back of his brain.

"Like what?"

"Y'know, the soaps and shampoos and such."

Harry smiles sheepishly. "Oh, I dunno. They're just... nice. I like nice things."

"Well, there's more where that came from," Louis laughs, standing up from the tiled floors. He walks over to the vanity and opens the cabinet. He pulls out a small basket filled with various cosmetic and hygienic products, all with countless scents and colours. He sits back on the floor with his legs crossed, resting his elbows on the tub's edge.

"You can take some with you, if you'd like," Louis offers.

Harry frowns. "I don't think my fellow sea creatures would appreciate it. Soapy water makes vision quite difficult."

"Oh, right."

"But thanks anyway." He cards through the basket, examining the half-empty bottles of lotion, body wash, and toothpaste. "Where'd you get all these things?"

"Well, my sister works at Lush. They sell loads of nice-smelling stuff."

Harry hums with acknowledgement before he extracts a black plastic comb from the basket. He rubs his finger over the edge, eyebrows furrowed.

"What's this?"

"It's a comb."

"What's a comb?"

"You sure do ask a lot of questions," Louis chuckles, curling his knees towards his chest. He doesn't mean it in an insulting manner. He actually thinks it's adorable. He doesn't mind Harry's curiosity and wonder. After all, Louis feels the exact same way.

He wants to explore the ocean depths together. He wants to swim along the current with pretty sea turtles and colourful fish. He wants to kiss him underwater and float around carelessly, as if he has an endless supply of oxygen.

"I can't help it. Your world is fascinating," Harry says softly.

Louis just smiles and takes the comb. He slowly starts running it through Harry's damp hair, flattening his curls. As the dull teeth scrape over his scalp, Harry sighs happily and leans back against the tub. His shoulders bob up and down with relaxation.

"Feels nice," he murmurs.

Louis bites his lip. "You look really beautiful," he muses, taking the comb away. His damp hair has lost its natural curls, forming into loose waves. His lashes are wet and clumped together. His cheeks and lips are the colour of red roses, bright and pigmented.

"Thanks," Harry says softly, avoiding eye contact. He watches his tail at the opposite end of the tub, how it falls over the edge and drips water onto the tiles below. In this lighting, his green scales look like individual emeralds. Some are lighter shades than others. They gradually morph into porcelain skin near his waist, where he has beautiful love handles, perfect for squeezing.

Feeling embarrassed by Louis's compliment, Harry looks through the basket again to distract himself. He finds a small bottle of pink nail polish. He holds up the bottle and glances at Louis curiously.

"What's this?"

"It's nail polish."

His eyes widen. "You put this stuff on your _nails_?"

Louis chuckles at Harry's enthusiasm. "Yes. Well, I mean, _I_ don't use it meself. That belongs to my little sister, Fizzy. I dunno how it ended up with me."

Harry huffs quietly. "You humans are quite strange," he says, twisting the top of the bottle. He pulls off the cap and examines the thin brush, coated in pink polish.

"Do you want me to put it on you?" Louis teases. "I reckon you'd look quite pretty with painted fingernails."

He was joking, of course— entirely joking. But Harry just smiles as bright as the sun and nods with urgency. He gives Louis the nail polish eagerly, splaying his hands on the edge of the tub so his fingers are spread apart. Louis cocks an eyebrow.

"Seriously?"

Harry pouts cutely. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, love. It's just— you're really somethin' else."

The mermaid giggles and looks down shyly. "Thanks, I think."

"It was supposed to be a compliment," Louis assures, touching his wrist to keep his hand still. He presses his tongue between his lips and tries to concentrate. The brush's tip glides along his thumb nail, covering it with pink paint. He smiles with satisfaction at the crisp, flawless result. "I'm a pro at this, Harry. I grew up with four sisters."

Harry snickers as Louis finishes painting his nails. They mostly stay silent, save Harry's happy gasps and hums of approval. Afterwards, his nails are as pink as blooming cherry blossoms. He extends his hands to examine them.

"So pretty!" Harry says excitedly. "Thank you, Lou!"

"Lou?"

"Oh, sorry, do you not like to be called that?"

Louis waves his hand dismissively. "No, it's fine."

So they're on nickname terms now. Even though they're still trapped in the realm of platonicy, it gives him a little sparkle of hope. Perhaps their friendship will grow into something more. No matter how much Louis denies it, he can't stop thinking about kissing Harry and touching his skin. Deep down, he knows a relationship with Harry would be complicated; after all, they're from two completely different worlds. And he doesn't even want to _think_ about the anatomical difficulties. Nevertheless, he allows himself to dream about a hopeless fantasy.

"It's almost midday," Harry notes, looking through the nearby window. The sun is shining brightly in the sky amidst a blanket of blue skies. Puffs of wispy white clouds decorate the heavens like unfurled cotton balls. "My pod is probably waiting for me back home."

Louis bites his lip with disappointment. "You have to leave?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Alright," Louis caves in, standing up wearily. He reaches into the tub and scoops him up, allowing Harry to wrap his arms around his shoulders. Louis tries to ignore the way his gills flutter for breath. He knows Harry can survive out of water, at least for a little while.

Harry buries his face in Louis's neck as he walks outside. The air feels hotter now, filled with suffocating humidity. He steps off the porch and descends down the steep hill, feeling sand clump between his bare toes. He can feel Harry's warm breath puffing against his collarbones. His lips are tantalizingly close to his skin.

When he reaches the stony beach, Louis walks into the water without hesitation, up to his knees. The cold temperature causes goosebumps to pepper his skin. He sets Harry down gently, as if he's made of brittle glass. Harry smiles warmly and sinks into the sea with ease. He swims out a little deeper whilst Louis waits on the shore, arms crossed over his chest.

"Thank you," Harry says firmly, meeting Louis's cobalt irises. Land and sea.

"For what?"

"For showing me what it's like to be ashore."

Louis gives a short nod. Really, _he_ should be thanking Harry, not the other way around. Without him, he'd be incredibly lonely and possibly depressed. Without him, he may have lost faith in finding someone else after losing Zayn. Without him, he'd be a lonely man living at a cottage in the middle of nowhere.

Harry dimples. "Perhaps I'll show you what it's like to live underwater sometime."

"I might drown, but you're worth it," Louis admits with a shrug.

Harry smirks as he swims around comfortably. The water is surprisingly calm with moderate waves. He seems to blend into the sea, as if he's part of it— as if they're one singular being, moving in sync.

"I'll see you later, Lou," Harry says, giving a small wave.  Louis can't help but smile at his pink nails.  They're sharper and longer than human nails, since mermaids use them for hunting and defense.  Every part of him is breathtakingly beautiful.  

"Take care, Harry."

The mermaid boy disappears into the sea, swishing his green tail through the salty water. After a minute or so, Louis walks back into the cottage and unplugs his bathtub drain. He watches the dirty water swirl around in circles, dreaming about his silly mermaid fantasies.   


	8. float

The comforting warmth of salty water drowns Harry's body with familiarity. It instantly feels like home. He no longer views the sea as a separate entity, but rather as part of himself, part of his existence. Mermaids and the sea share a delicate, symbiotic relationship. Mermaids help control crustacean and small fish populations and, in return, the sea provides a place for them to roam and thrive freely. It's mutualism.

Humans, on the other hand, are the oceans' deadliest parasite. They fill water with destructive sonic noise. They flood it with litter and oil. They slaughter innocent sea creatures and trap animals in nets and cages. People take and take and take, but they never give back.

For as long as Harry can remember, humans have been the ultimate enemy. His pod always told him horror stories about those terrible monsters who walk on two legs and destroy everything in their paths. Stay away from humans, his fellow mermaids would say. They're deadly and dangerous.

But Louis is far from dangerous. He's soft and sweet and gentle. He likes stoner comedy films, football, bitter tea, and fragrant soaps. He likes long walks on the beach and pretty sunsets. He'd never hurt anyone.

Nevertheless, if his pod found out about Louis, they'd banish Harry in a heartbeat. His family views all humans as evil and murderous, regardless of their individual characters. They'd say it's risky. They wouldn't understand. He hates keeping secrets from them, but he doesn't have any other choice.

He swims through the water gracefully, propelling himself faster with his powerful tail and webbed fingers. The air bubbles around him tickle his skin. His eyes soon adjust underwater, allowing him to see clearly. He spots a cluster of green sea wrack at the bottom of the sea, next to scattered oysters, starfish, and pointy rocks. A unified school of silver mackerel swims in front of him, so he moves slightly to avoid colliding with them.

Deciding he needs to find his pod again, he releases a loud whistle from the back of his throat. Mermaids communicate underwater with a variety of high-pitched noises, similar to dolphins. Just moments later, he hears a response. He quickly identifies it as his own sister, Gemma. He could recognize that whistle from a hundred kilometers away.

He travels towards Gemma's sound, swishing his tail rapidly. He moves through the water naturally without conscious thought. He sees a blur of blue, green, and shimmering silver light surrounding him. As much as he likes spending time with Louis, a small bathtub with bubbles doesn't compare to vast, open waters. He feels like he could swim for eternity and circle the globe— not that his pod would ever allow him to do that. They have _rules_ , after all.

Eventually, he finds his pod near a small island made of black stone, swimming in the shallows where the water feels warmer. Ripples form in the sand and pebble-filled gravel. Harry grins as he looks around, seeing his family and friends. He quickly finds his older sister, Gemma, with her beautiful blue tail and long, light brown hair. She's scavenging the seafloor for kelp and shellfish, moving her webbed hands across the sand.

He approaches her from behind and clasps a hand over her shoulder. Startled, Gemma spins around, swishing her long tail and light blue fins. She smiles widely. Her hazel eyes look fluorescent underwater, glowing, allowing her to see in the deepest, darkest depths.

She grabs Harry's hand and squeezes it, happy to see him again. But when she looks down, she freezes. She notices the pink paint on his fingernails, bright and completely unnatural. She furrows her brow with confusion.

Harry completely forgot about the polish on his nails. He was so distracted with how happy Louis made him feel, he didn't think of the possible consequences. The new sights and sounds and smells of Louis's cottage consumed his brain entirely, leaving no room for rational thinking.

He just stares in silence. He can't explain the complexity of his situation with high-pitched squeaks and whistles. He can't express how much he likes Louis, how sweet he is, how lovely he treats him.

Fortunately, mermaids have the ability to speak every worldly language out of water. Verbal communication tends to be far more effective. With these thoughts in mind, Harry floats to the surface with Gemma still grabbing his wrist. They swim towards the edge of the tiny island and hop on a half-submerged rock, leaving their tails in the water.

"What happened to your nails?" Gemma demands, raising her voice.

Harry hushes her. "Keep quiet, Gems."

"Well, I'm sorry for being concerned for my baby brother's safety," Gemma says sarcastically. "When Mum died, she left _me_ in charge of you. You're my responsibility."

"I can take care of myself."

"Well, obviously you can't," she scoffs. "What the fuck is this?" She grabs Harry's hand and examines his nails, squinting her eyes curiously.

Harry gulps. "It's... nail polish."

"Nail polish?"

Harry just nods wordlessly.

"Where did you get this?" she asks sternly. Her voice is strong and insistent, just like their mother's. Gemma always reminds him of their mum— her kindness, her eyes, her smile, her pretty tail. It's soothing and heartbreaking at the same time.

Harry shrugs.

"Don't you dare lie to me, H," Gemma hisses.

He frowns and pulls back his hand, staring down at the tip of his tail, watching it glide in the smooth water. He brushes his wet hair behind his ear and sighs.

"You have to promise not to tell anyone," Harry says softly.

Gemma tilts her head. "Fine."

He clears his throat. "Well, it's... kinda a long story. I, um, I met a human."

Her eyes widen in shock. "A _human_?! Are you fucking insane?"

"Shh!" Harry shushes, trying to calm her down. The rest of the pod are still close by, lounging on rocks in the bright sun or swimming underwater. "He's not like most humans, okay? He's really nice! His name's Louis."

"Humans are not _nice_ , Harry. They're monsters."

"He's not a monster!" Harry whispers sharply.

"The pod would banish you if they found out about this, understand?"

He hangs his head shamefully. "Yeah... I know."

Gemma shakes her head with disappointment. "Do you remember what humans did to our own mother? She's dead because of them."

"They didn't _kill_ her—"

"She was cut by one of their boat propellers, and the blood attracted a shark to her," Gemma recalls, voice cracking with sadness. She remembers everything about that fatal day— the dark red blood, the shark's sharp teeth ripping her to shreds, her underwater screams that filled the water with air bubbles. She'll never forget the vivid fear on her mum's face. "And if you keep spending time with that evil man, you'll end up dead, too."

"Louis isn't evil," Harry assures, tears burning in his eyes. He sniffles and wipes his nose with the back of his hand. "He's nice to me. He makes me feel... happy."

"Well if he makes you so happy, maybe you should leave," Gemma snaps back.

Harry falters. "I— what do you mean?"

Gemma huffs. "I can't protect you if you're hanging out with a human," she murmurs. "You're putting the entire pod at risk, including me."

Harry's bottom lip wobbles. "You... want me to leave the pod?"

Gemma crosses her arms stubbornly, covering her breasts. Her hair drapes over her pale chest like tangled seaweed. "You need to make a choice: your family or Louis."

Harry stares at her in surprise. "Are you serious?" he asks softly, quiet and vulnerable.

"Don't look at me like I'm the bad guy," Gemma says, waggling her finger. "You're the one who's socializing with our enemy. You're putting all of us in danger, Harry."

He frowns and remains silent. He can't imagine never seeing Louis again, never hearing his voice, never seeing his ocean blue eyes. He loves his family, but he sometimes feels trapped within the pod. Louis makes him feel free, like there's more to life than foraging for kelp, avoiding predators, and floating around in circles.

Instead of responding, he sinks back into the water and swims away, ignoring his sister's distant calls.

-

Louis drags his wheelbarrow along the beach, filled with broken drift wood, slimy seaweed, and litter that washed ashore. He wears a pair of gloves in fear of scratching his palms. He bends down and scoops up a washed-up beer bottle, tossing it away. He wants to clean up the beach before his family comes to visit the following weekend.

In the sky, the sun is beginning to set behind puffy clouds. The bright, orange ball of light shimmers on the smooth, glass-like water. The damp sand feels cold beneath Louis's bare toes. A slight breeze brushes against him, rustling his caramel-colored hair.

He removes his gloves and brushes his hands against his thighs. He grabs the wheelbarrow handles and begins walking towards the nearby woods to dump its contents, where tall pines and birch trees stretch towards the heavens. Dense forest surrounds his cabin on either side, decorating the horizon with dark green leaves and brown bark. The air smells like a mixture of salt water and pine needles.

Suddenly, he hears a splash. Startled, he drops the wheelbarrow on its side, spilling the rubbish on the gravelly ground. He curses under his breath and rips his gaze towards the sea, where small waves are beginning to form, lapping on shore.

He instantly sees Harry wading in the shallow water with glossy eyes and puffy, trembling lips. His cheeks are flushed from crying.

"Shit," Louis swears, quickly running towards the sea. He rushes in the water without hesitation, disregarding his wet denim shorts. The water feels as cold as ice, numbing his entire body, but he doesn't care. He only cares about Harry.

"What's wrong?" Louis asks, waist-deep in water. Rocks and seaweed press into the soles of his feet, making them sore. He brushes his thumb over Harry's cheek to wipe away his tears.

"It's Gemma, my sister," he sniffles. "She s-saw my nails and found out I was spending time with a human. She told me to l-leave. Said I was endangering the pod."

Louis's lips part slightly in surprise. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, H. This is all my fault."

"No, it's not—"

"I should've known better."

"It's not your fault," Harry promises, leaning into Louis's comforting touch. He wraps his arms around him securely. Despite being cold-blooded, he feels surprisingly warm.

"Do you wanna come back inside with me?" Louis asks delicately, thumbing over his shoulder towards his cottage. "I can run you a bath."

Harry shakes his head, tickling Louis's chin with his wet, dark hair. "No, not yet. Just stay here with me, please. Make me feel... happy again."

"Of course," Louis says gently. "Tell me how I can help."

Harry glances up shyly. Louis can feel his hot breath brushing against his neck. His lips are as red as ripe strawberries. His watery eyes are green like soft flower leaves, beautiful and lovely. The scent of fresh shampoo still lingers in his hair.

"Kiss me?" Harry asks innocently, batting his damp, clumped eyelashes.

Louis's heart leaps in his chest. A fraction of silence passes between them. "Are you sure, darling?" he hesitates. He cups his cheeks in his small hands, lifting his face. Harry's tummy flutters in response to the cute pet name.

He just nods and swallows the lump in his throat. "Yes, I'm sure."

Louis gathers up all his courage and leans in, closing the gap between their lips. The kiss is timid, slow, and uncertain. The taste of saltwater taints Harry's lips, but oddly enough, it's addicting. His mouth feels soft and plush and wet. Louis tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth, eliciting a quiet whimper from the back of Harry's throat. It only lasts a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity of pure bliss.

Louis pulls away slightly, keeping their faces close together. A look of bewilderment crosses Harry's expression. He touches his webbed fingers to his own mouth, as if he might be dreaming. A wide smile stretches on his lips and dimples his rosy cheeks.

"Stay with me," Harry hums, tucking his face in his neck. He kisses his collarbone lightly, right above his chest tattoo.

"I'd never leave you, fish boy."

Harry laughs and wrinkles his nose. "I liked it better when you called me your darling."

"Alright, darling," Louis whispers, curling his fingers through his damp hair.

"Can you paint my nails again?" Harry wonders, blushing. "I want them to be green so they match my scales."

Louis grins and curls his arms beneath his tail, lifting him out of the water. Harry giggles and kisses his cheek to show his gratitude. Louis carries him uphill towards his cottage, chest to chest, feeling his heartbeat against his own.   


	9. lost

"Who needs family anyway?" Harry scoffs, relaxing in the warm, bubbly tub. The strong scent of floral soap mixes with the lingering saltwater on his skin. The air is humid and foggy, causing condensation to cloud up the nearby mirror. Louis just sits on the tiled floor, legs tucked against his chest, and nods agreeably.

"It's their loss."

"Exactly. I don't need them," the mermaid pouts, crossing his arms. His scaly tail hangs off the ledge of the white porcelain tub, dripping water droplets on the floor. His skin is flushed and his lips are as red as blood, eyes puffy from crying. "I can survive on my own, y'know?"

Louis gives a weak half-smile. "And now we can spend more time together, yeah?"

"Yeah. The pod was just holding me back. It's better off this way," Harry says stubbornly.

He doesn't want to admit he's hurting. He doesn't want Louis to think he's weak or dependant on others. But the truth is, he's broken without his family. He relied on his pod for everything— food, comfort, love, affection, protection, advice. He doesn't understand how Gemma could banish him without a second thought. He knows humans are the "enemy," but he wishes she could've given Louis a chance to prove himself. He's a good guy. He's not like most people— not like the fishermen who killed their own mother.

"Hey," Louis says softly, noticing Harry's sudden quietness. "You alright, love?"

Harry bites his lip. "I'm okay. Just thinking."

"About what?"

"About Gems," Harry murmurs, staring at the tip of his tail to avoid Louis's piercing gaze. He feels his eyes fog up with tears, so he wipes them away with the back of his hand, sniffling.

Louis frowns. "You're really not okay, are you?" he says doubtfully.

Harry's bottom lip wobbles. "No, I—"

"You can tell me the truth," Louis promises, holding his soft hand, rubbing the thin webbing between his fingers. His skin has a blue-tinted hue and feels as smooth as silk. His nails are long and sharp and coated with hot pink polish. Some of it had rubbed off in the sea, leaving specks of residue behind. His green scales look shiny in the bathroom's harsh lighting.

The mermaid sniffles again. "I'm just sad. Gemma is the only blood-relative I have left," he croaks, pinching his eyes shut. His lashes are dark and wet and clumped together. "My pod is part of my family, too, but we're not _really_ related. It was just my sister and I. And she just— she _left_ me."

Louis kisses his bare shoulder, trying to calm him down. He brushes his dark, damp hair behind his ear. "What happened to your parents?" he mumbles. "If you don't mind me asking."

Harry frowns. "My father died in a tsunami when I was really little, and my mum was attacked by a shark after she was cut by a boat propeller."

Louis pauses. "Oh. I'm sorry."

Harry just shrugs. "It's fine. I just never expected Gems to abandon me. She promised our mum she'd look after me."

"She'll realize her mistake soon," Louis assures, offering him a gentle smile. "Don't worry."

"But what if she doesn't?"

"Then you have me," Louis says as if it was obvious. "I'll take care of you, darling."

Harry rolls his eyes. "No offence, but I can't exactly live in a bathtub my whole life."

"Then I'll buy a swimming pool."

"You're not seeing the point, Louis," Harry says sharply. "The sea is my _home_. It's where I belong. I love spending time with you, but I— I can't stay here forever."

A dense feeling of rejection settles in Louis's gut. He thought Harry wanted to be with him, to stay with him, but he clearly misunderstood. He removes his hand from where it was, scratching soothingly at his scalp, and stands up from the cold floor. Harry can't help but stare at his small feet and pretty ankles. He finds human anatomy _so_ fascinating.

"Fine, then. If you want to go back to the sea, I'll take you there," Louis grumbles.

Harry hesitates before raising an eyebrow, as if trying to test Louis's seriousness. "Are you kidding me?"

"What?"

"I just said I didn't want to live here _forever_ , but I still like spending time with you, Louis," Harry huffs. "And I really need a friend right now."

"You said so yourself: your pod doesn't want you. So why won't you stay here with me?"

"Because I'm a mermaid, Louis! I'm not a human," Harry says exasperatedly. "If I magically grew legs and feet, it'd be different, okay? But I'm a bloody fish."

Louis slumps his shoulders and sits on the edge of the tub. "But I really like you," he begins quietly. "When we kissed, I felt— something I can't explain. Something magical, as cliche as that sounds. I know I want to be with you."

Harry tilts his head sadly and leans forward in the tub until his lips ghost over Louis's cheek. He presses a sweet, soft kiss against his caramel skin. Louis tries not to reveal the fact that his tummy is swarming with nervous butterflies. He feels like a naive kid again, reliving his first crush. Harry makes his head spin in confused circles. It's like he's lost in a deep trance of want and desire, completely overthrown by his spell.

"I like you, too," Harry whispers.

He lightly kisses the corner of his mouth, causing Louis to shiver involuntarily. Harry places a cold hand on his warm thigh, nudging up his Adidas shorts. He probably doesn't know what he's doing, doesn't understand how male human anatomy works in the first place, but his fingers are just a few mere inches away from Louis's dick. He sort of panics.

"Harry," he says, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Can we just, um, pause?"

The mermaid freezes, blush creeping on his cheeks. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, of course not," Louis exhales, brushing his thumb over Harry's jawline. He pecks his lips reassuringly.

Harry lets out a soft sigh of relief. "Oh, okay."

"I'm just, uh, kinda hungry," Louis lies. "Do you want somethin' to eat?"

Harry laughs and places his hands over his grumbling tummy. "I'm starving, actually."

"I'll make us some food, if you'd like," Louis offers kindly. "What do you want to eat?"

"Surprise me."

Louis smirks. "Okay, love," he hums, standing up. He takes a few steps towards the door before pausing. "I'll be right back."

Harry smiles and jokingly blows him a kiss. "I'll miss you."

Louis rolls his eyes. "I'll be gone for less than twenty minutes, but yeah, I'll miss you more."

~

Later that evening, Louis and Harry eat grilled shrimp skewers and seaweed salad for dinner. Louis recently bought sea-inspired groceries (shrimp, mackerel, seaweed, sushi, and mussels) for Harry's sake. The young mermaid often refrained from eating Louis's typical human food. His diet of small crustaceans and ocean flora is very delicate and fragile.

Harry lounges in Louis's tub, munching on seasoned shrimp and sighing happily. The bathwater has long since turned cold, losing its bubbles, turning murky with dirt. He doesn't mind, though. He just sits comfortably and eats dinner with Louis, enjoying his company.

"This is delicious," Harry compliments, eating the last prawn on his kabob. Louis stares in admirable awe. He even _chews_ adorably.

"I'm glad you like it."

"Maybe we can eat dinner together every night," Harry teases, winking.

Louis knows he's joking, but he wishes it could be true. He wishes they could spend more time together. He wishes Harry could turn human, at least for a little while. He wants to show him the entire world. He wants to take him on trips, explore different countries, and go on spontaneous adventures. But unfortunately, they're stuck in his tiny bathroom.

"I wish we could," Louis sighs, pushing his empty plate aside. He's sitting on the floor next to the tub with his ankles crossed. "If only there was a way to make you human."

Harry picks at his nails. "Yeah," he mutters. A few seconds of silence passes between them. He eats the last bit of seaweed salad with his hands (because "forks are weird") and sets his plate on the floor. "Can you paint my nails now? I want them to be green."

Louis chuckles and fetches the mint-colored nail polish, acetone remover, and cotton balls from the cabinet. He takes Harry's hand in his own and smudges off the leftover pink paint. Harry sighs happily, swishing his tail as Louis unscrews the glass polish bottle.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" Harry asks abruptly.

Louis looks up curiously, meeting his fluorescent green eyes. His irises are bright and gorgeous, like two round emeralds. "Of course I do. You're more than pretty, love. You're breathtaking."

Harry blushes. "You don't have to say that."

"I mean it, though. You're my beautiful little mermaid," Louis hums.

Harry giggles. "I guess that makes you my prince."

Louis smiles and kisses him again. He could definitely get used to this.


	10. curious

"Tell me about your ex."

The question catches Louis off guard. He's lounging with Harry in his cramped bathroom, sitting on the uncomfortable floor. Harry's sprawled out in the porcelain tub in dirty, lukewarm water, resting his green tail on the opposite ledge. His left arm is hanging out, allowing Louis to hold his hand and smooth his thumb over his wet, slimy skin. His nails are a beautiful shade of mint, matching the lighter colour of his fins. His flesh feels as cold as ice.

"There's not much to talk about," Louis admits with a careless shrug, as if Zayn never meant anything to him. As if they weren't married in the first place.

They were together for five years. Five years of bliss and love and attachment. Louis likes to brush it off as if it were nothing, but Zayn was like his other half. They did everything together. They dreamt about their futures— adopting kids, finally moving out of their dingy flat and buying a real, proper home in the suburbs. But those dreams were shattered the moment Louis caught him in the act.

"I wanna know how it feels," Harry says softly.

"How what feels?"

Harry bites his lip shyly. "Love."

Louis pauses for a few seconds. "You've never been in love?"

Harry shakes his head. His wet hair drapes down his shoulders, loose curls framing his flushed face. His cheeks are pink and lovely, contrasting against his delicate, pale skin. In the bathroom's poor lighting, his eyes seem to glow fluorescently, like a neon green sign.

"Mermaids don't believe in love," Harry confesses, staring at the wall to avoid Louis's gaze. He looks at the nautical decor and the old, faded wallpaper.

"They don't?"

"No. For mermaids, mating is very... technical," Harry says, struggling to find the right words. Louis squeezes his hand with reassurance. "My pod tells me I'm supposed to mate with this mermaid girl called Ivy. She's a great friend, and I enjoy spending time with her, but—"

"But you're not into girls," Louis answers, finishing his sentence.

Harry looks up bashfully and nods. "Yeah," he murmurs, fiddling with his fingers awkwardly.

"I'm sorry," Louis hums.

A brief moment of silence passes between them. Louis absorbs the information like a sponge, slowly and thoroughly. He wishes he knew more about Harry's life as a mermaid. He wants to know everything about him.

"How do you know love exists if mermaids don't believe in it?"

Harry pulls back his arm and picks at his nails distractedly. "There was a young married couple who lived here before you," he begins, voice low and dry. "When I was seven years old, I swam out here by myself and was scavenging for shellfish. I came up for air, and I— I saw the man and woman walking towards the beach together."

He stops for a few seconds, breathing in the humid air. His gills flutter against his ribcage, revealing bits of pink flesh underneath.

"The woman was in a wheelchair," the mermaid continues. "She was paralyzed from the waist down. It confused me at first because where I come from, mermaids with physical defects don't get mates. Mermaids are supposed to mate with those who will give them viable offspring. I didn't understand why the man was with her, why he chose to marry her despite her disability."

"But then I saw them kissing whilst they watched the sunset together. There was a certain look in their eyes, something I'd never seen before. I guess it was love," Harry rambles. "But my pod thinks it's all crazy nonsense."

Louis frowns sympathetically. "Love isn't easy for simple minds to comprehend," he says quietly, brushing a pretty ringlet out of Harry's eyes.

"Can you tell me what it was like?" Harry asks delicately. "Falling in love?"

Louis tucks his knees against his chest, sighing. "Zayn and I fell for each other in university. We took the same class— Visual Arts 101. I signed up for a blowoff elective, but Zayn was very passionate about art. Talented, too," he recalls, forcing himself not to smile at the fond memories. They're strongly bittersweet. "Anyway, he was very flirtatious from the moment we met. He saw how horrible I was at drawing and offered to give me a few private lessons. Asked for my number." Louis snickers at the recollection, shaking his head. "Zayn was never very... subtle."

Harry grins. "He sounds sweet."

"He was. Until... y'know," Louis mumbles, waving his hand dismissively. "I asked Zayn out on a date a few weeks later. We went to the cinema— some creepy horror film. He was scared shittless. Buried his head in my shoulder and shielded his eyes."

Harry chuckles. " 's funny. I thought he was a badass. Looked pretty intimidating."

"How do you know what Zayn looks like?" Louis asks, raising an eyebrow.

The mermaid bites his lip. "I saw him before we met— when he came here with his fancy car. You two got in a fight."

"You saw that?"

"I was admiring from afar," Harry laughs, green eyes twinkling.

"Well, I reckon I wasn't very attractive back then. We were screaming in each other's faces. I was a proper mess," Louis recalls, snorting.

He distinctly remembers the angry rage surging through his veins. He remembers the smug expression on Zayn's face, making his skin itch. He remembers the lack of guilt in Zayn's voice, the lack of regret. The sad excuse for an apology that poured from his lying, cheating lips.

Harry looks at him with sincerity. "You're always attractive, Lou."

Louis scoffs. "Says the beautiful, mythical mermaid."

"You think I'm beautiful?" Harry blushes, blinking his dark, damp lashes.

"Of course I do," Louis says without a second thought. "I think you're breathtaking."

Harry giggles adorably, hiding his face with his hands. Louis's heart thuds in his chest. Harry makes his brain feel fuzzy, like it's overwhelmed with emotions. He never imagined the possibility of mermaids being real, let alone developing a silly crush on one.

"Hey, don't do that," Louis hushes, moving Harry's hands. He smooths his thumb over his soft cheek, soothing him. "Let me see those pretty eyes."

Harry's lashes flutter open. Shining emeralds stare back at him.

"There you are," Louis says quietly. He smiles and presses a soft, innocent kiss to his cheek. The distinctive taste of saltwater lingers on his lips.

"Thank you," Harry hums, barely audible.

"For what, darling?"

"For staying with me. Keeping me company."

Louis grins and pecks his cheek again. "Of course, my little mermaid."

Harry laughs and crosses his arms over his chest. "I'm not little."

"It's a reference," Louis explains, a look of admiration settling on his face. " _The Little Mermaid_ is a classic Disney film."

"What's it about?"

"A mermaid princess who becomes human and falls in love with a prince," Louis explains. He remembers obsessing over Disney movies with his little sisters. He used to stay up late with them and watch marathons and re-runs, snacking on buttery popcorn and junk food.

"That sounds cute," says Harry, smiling.

"I have a DVD copy, actually," Louis remembers. "We could watch it on my laptop."

Harry dimples. "That sounds lovely."

"Okay, I'll be right back," Louis says briefly, standing up. His joints pop audibly.

He ruffles a hand messily through Harry's dark hair before leaving the room. Harry waits patiently in the bathtub, watching his shiny tail beneath the filthy, dirt-filled water.

Louis returns with his laptop and DVD case. He sits back on the ground next to the tub. The tiled floors are covered in water splashes, but he doesn't seem to mind. He opens his laptop and slides the shiny disc inside. Whilst he waits for it to boot up, Harry stares at the technology with awe. The light of the screen glows in his curious eyes.

Outside, the sun vanishes from the sky and fills the bathroom with darkness. The glow of his laptop carves shadows into Louis's pretty cheekbones. Louis turns up the volume on his computer and angles the screen towards Harry, allowing them both to see.

"Is this our first proper date?" Harry asks abruptly.

The menu screen appears on the laptop. Tropical music plays quietly in the background. Louis looks at Harry with surprise.

"Pardon?"

"You said your first date with Zayn was at the cinema," Harry recalls, ducking his head to hide his blush. "So, is _this_ a date?"

Louis's chest flutters. "It is if you want it to be."

Harry smiles and nods. "Yeah, I do."

"Alright, then. It's a date," Louis says, clicking the play button to start the film.

Harry grins with satisfaction and reaches out of the tub to grab Louis's hand. Their skin colours are sharp contrasts— warm caramel and cold, blue-tinted ivory. Harry watches the movie attentively, the heat of the laptop pressed to Louis's bare thighs. When Ariel sprouts legs and goes ashore, Harry sighs longingly.

"I wish I could become human," he confesses, voice soft and timid.

Louis kisses the back of his hand. "Maybe someday, love. Stranger things have happened."


	11. hope

By the time the film finishes, Harry is fast asleep in the bathtub, arm hanging over the ledge with water dripping from his fingertips. Louis smiles fondly at him and admires the soft breaths escaping his pink lips. His lashes look dark and soft against his pale skin. His damp hair cascades down his shoulders, half-submerged in the dirty, tepid water.

Louis smiles at him and stands up wearily. He folds his laptop and tucks it under his arm. Before he leaves, he presses a soft kiss on the back of Harry's hand. His flesh feels slimy and cold, but he doesn't mind.

He takes one step towards the door, but Harry instantly clasps his hand over his wrist, stopping him abruptly. His strength jerks him backwards. Louis swears under his breath and looks back at him, blinking silently.

"Don't leave," Harry croaks, eyes wet. "Stay here with me?"

Louis smiles reassuringly. "I was just gonna fetch a pillow and a blanket, baby. Sleeping on the bathroom floor isn't very comfortable."

Harry flushes, releasing his grip. "Oh, okay."

"I'll be right back."

He kisses the top of his head before exiting. He walks down the narrow hallway to the master bedroom on the left. The room is still fairly empty, with only an old bed and a wooden dresser. A large window fills the north-facing wall, which opens up to an endless cluster of birch and pine trees. Fallen needles fill the forest floor.

He quickly grabs his favorite feather pillow and an old quilt, using white moonlight as a guide. The homemade quilt is scratchy and heavy, and it still smells like his grandmother's mint candies. He carries them into the bathroom blindly, accidentally stubbing his toe in the process.

He lies down on the floor next to the tub, spreading out the quilt. After sleeping on a lumpy couch for many years, he's become accustomed to being uncomfortable. He sprawls out on the hard floor and looks at Harry lovingly, who's already half-asleep, dozing off. He sits up for a brief moment.

His skin looks even paler in the dark. It's paper white with blue undertones. His scaly tail is shiny and covered in gloss, as green as freshly-polished emeralds and jade. He's the most magnificent creature he's ever laid eyes on.

"Goodnight, my little mermaid," Louis whispers, kissing his cheek.

-

When Louis wakes up the next morning, Harry is still lost in a deep sleep. He doesn't bother waking him up. Instead, he retreats to his kitchen to prepare a lovely medley of seafood breakfast. After nearly twenty minutes of researching recipes online, he finds detailed cooking instructions for eggs benedict with smoked salmon.

He's never been an exceptionally good cook; he's mediocre at best. Regardless, he wants to make Harry feel welcome. He fetches the ingredients from the fridge: a carton of eggs, spinach, and smoked salmon. He also grabs vinegar from the top cupboard and a loaf of sliced bread. He stands over the stove and cooks silently, humming to himself. The heat from the hob causes sweat to glisten on his hairline.

When the eggs are perfectly poached, he pops two slices of bread in the toaster. Whilst he waits, he makes a fresh pot of coffee. The whirling noise of the machine fills the silence.

Abruptly, he hears the low rumble of a familiar engine. He looks up, startled. His heart leaps in his chest. He hurries towards the window and squints his eyes. He sees Zayn's porsche driving smoothly along his gravelly driveway.

"Shit," Louis curses, dropping his large metal spoon.

He immediately rushes outside, still wearing nothing but boxers. The chilly air causes goosebumps to pepper his skin. Outside, the sun is hidden behind a blanket of grey clouds. The sea is roaring angrily, waves crashing against the rocky shore.

He crosses his muscled arms over his chest and stops a few feet away from Zayn's shiny car. His ex-husband steps out of the driver's seat with a smirk on his face.

"Hey, darling," he greets, voice filled with sarcasm.

The sight of him draws the breath out of Louis's lungs. He's wearing a graphic shirt with the sleeves cut off, revealing his tattooed olive skin. His combat boots crunch over the rocky terrain. His hair has grown since they last saw each other. A black beard covers his chin, making him look even older than he really is.

"I told you to never come back here," Louis says firmly.

"Really? I don't recall," Zayn chuckles, leaning against the side of his car.

"Go away, Zayn. I don't want you here."

His tongue darts out for a split second, toying with the silver ring in his bottom lip. "That's unfortunate. I was hoping to get a tour of your lovely cottage. Half of it belongs to me, after all," he says snarkily.

Louis scoffs. "Pardon?"

"Oh, please. We both know you couldn't have afforded this place all by yourself," he says cockily. "You had to rely on your rich ex-husband."

Louis points his finger into his chest, angry veins forming in his temples. "Shut the fuck up. _I_ bought this place, not you!"

Zayn snorts and ignores Louis entirely, brushing past him. He still smells like expensive Chanel cologne. He walks up the porch steps with complete disregard. Louis slumps his shoulders and chases after him, grabbing his shoulder tightly.

"Hey, stop! You can't go inside, you twat."

Zayn just laughs and storms inside, yanking open the door. He looks around in surprise and wrinkles his nose.

"What a dump," he muses.

Louis rolls his eyes. "Wow, very mature."

"I'm just being honest," Zayn says quietly, pacing around. He walks into the kitchen and runs his palm along the dusty counter top, sighing. "If you needed some help repairing this shitthole, I'd be glad to assist you."

Louis shakes his head, lips curled in a deep frown. "I'm fine. Get out of my house."

" _Our_ house."

" _My_ house, you self-centered prick! My name's on the legal papers, not yours."

Zayn just smiles, as if this whole situation is some kind of joke. As if their relationship never truly mattered to him.

"This is quite a lot of food for one person," Zayn points out, looking around at the scattered ingredients and poached eggs. His voice is sharp and accusatory.

Louis tenses up, growing increasingly paranoid. He hopes Harry won't make any noise in the nearby bathroom. The last thing he needs is his ex-husband finding a mermaid in his bathtub.

"I'm hungry," Louis spits bitterly.

Zayn huffs out a humorless laugh. "Did you already find a new boytoy?"

Louis clenches his teeth. "No, I—"

Zayn turns down the hallway, heading towards his bedroom. Louis's eyes widen with panic. He chases after him, grabbing him by the fabric of his shirt and yanking him backwards. His face is red with anger.

"Get the fuck out, Zayn!"

"Why? I just wanted to meet your new slut," he growls, smirking with pride.

Louis frowns. "Don't call him that."

Zayn's smile widens. "Oh, so I was right?"

Louis feels like a blubbering fish out of water, gasping for air. "What? No, I—"

"Louis?" a soft voice calls distantly, muffled through the bathroom door. Harry's sweet tone is unmistakable. He sounds sleepy and syrupy, like he just woke up. "What's going on, Lou? Is someone here?"

Louis gulps. He doesn't say anything.

"He's in your bathroom?" Zayn smirks. "I'm not surprised. You've always been a fan of steamy shower sex."

His ex-husband reaches for the bathroom door, but Louis cuts in front of him. He blocks the entry with a stern look on his face.

"Get out!"

"Lou—"

"I said get out! Leave me the fuck alone and never come back!"

"But—"

"I'll call the cops for trespassing," he warns, eyes as cold as ice.

Zayn steps back silently, holding up his hands in defense. "Fine, you win," he hums, walking away. He steps towards the door slowly. His boots leave imprints in the plush, newly installed carpet. He pauses briefly in the doorway before exiting. "I hope you enjoy sharing _our_ home with your new twink."

Before Louis can think of a witty reply, Zayn takes off and slams the door behind him. It rattles loudly. He pounds down the porch steps and climbs in his car. He flees the cottage in a rush of anger, leaving skid marks behind in the dirt.

When the sound of his engine softens into silence, Louis sighs tiredly and leans back, thumping his head against the door. He intakes a deep breath and exhales slowly.

"Lou?" Harry croaks inside, sounding worried.

Louis bites his lip and opens the door, walking into the bathroom. Harry's resting in the bathtub with a confused expression on his face. His eyes still look droopy with sleep.

"Sorry 'bout that," Louis apologizes, sitting on the floor with crossed legs. "That was my ex-husband."

"Zayn?"

"Yeah."

"He sounds like a dick," Harry says shyly, biting his lip. "Are you okay?"

Louis smiles. "I'm okay," he says genuinely. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. Kinda hungry," he admits, holding his tummy. A faint blush creeps on his pudgy cheeks.

Louis chuckles. "That's great. I made breakfast. I'll be back in a jif!" he announces, bopping Harry's nose. He hurries into the kitchen, small feet padding over the cold floor.

He returns to the bathroom less than five minutes later. He hands Harry a plate full of eggs benedict made with salmon. It smells heavenly. Harry takes the plate gratefully, resting it on the flat ledge of the tub. He stares at the silver fork for a long moment, eyebrows scrunched.

"It's called a fork," Louis says softly. He picks it up and places it in Harry's hands, lacing it between his long, nimble fingers. His nails are still green and shiny, covered in polish. "You use it to eat and cut things up."

Harry ducks his head shyly. "Oh, okay."

After a few bites, he adjusts to using silverware. He smiles gratefully. "It's really good," he compliments, eyes twinkling with delight.

"I'm glad you like it," Louis says and takes a bite of his own.

A long beat of silence passes between them. Harry stares at his plate quietly, twisting his fork through a bit of yellow yolk.

"That was close," he hums. "What if Zayn saw me?"

Louis frowns. "I wouldn't let that happen, love."

"But he almost did."

"I won't let anyone hurt you, including Zayn. I promise."

"I'm not worried about getting hurt," Harry huffs. "I'm worried about exposing all of us. I'm worried about being taken away and used as some crazy science experiment."

Louis chews his food slowly and swallows. "I'll be more careful. I promise."

"That's not enough," Harry says doubtfully. "This could never work out, okay?"

"What could never work out?"

"This," Harry says sadly, motioning between the two of them.

Louis frowns, setting his plate aside. He'd lost his appetite. "You don't want to date me?"

"No, I do," Harry assures, reaching out of the tub. He grabs Louis's hands and holds them in his own. His green eyes are filled with fear and sadness. "It's just... impossible. You and I could never be together, unless I became human."

Louis's gaze falls to the tiled floors. "Is there any way you can transform into a person? Is there, like, a magic potion?"

Harry giggles. "You believe in magic potions?"

"I didn't believe in mermaids until I met you."

"Point taken," Harry murmurs. He stays quiet for a few long, torturous seconds. "There's a woman who lives off the coast of France. Her name's Perrie. I've heard rumors that she can change mermaids into humans. I've never seen it myself, but there's been chatter around my pod for quite some time."

"Is she a witch?"

"I suppose you could call her that," Harry mumbles. "I could— I could try to visit her. She has a house on the shore. It'd only take two or three days for me to swim there."

Louis's eyes light up with excitement. "I could come with you," he says enthusiastically. "I have a small boat."

Harry bites his lip. "No offence, love, but you'd just slow me down. I think this is something I need to do on my own."

Louis's smile flattens. "But what if it doesn't work?"

"Then I'll come back," Harry promises, squeezing his hands. "I'll always come back to you, Louis."

The blue-eyed man lets out a shuddered, nervous breath. "You should leave today, then," he says bravely. "Get an early start."

Harry registers the fear on Louis's face. "I'll be safe, okay? I promise."

Louis just smiles and pecks his lips. It's a brief kiss, but Harry is left completely breathless and bright-eyed. His cheeks turn pink. Louis smooths his thumb along his jawline, calming his rattled nerves.

"I believe in you, my little mermaid."


	12. missing

It's been a full week since Harry departed to France. Seven days. Seven days of constant worry, loneliness, anxiety, and sleepless nights. Louis is kept awake with nightmares about Harry becoming lost or encountering deadly creatures in the ocean's dark, scary depths. He can't sleep, relax, think, or focus on anything.

He can't help but feel guilty, as if this is all his fault. He shouldn't have let Harry swim hundreds of miles on his own. He knew it was risky, and he knew Harry could potentially be hurt, but he was selfish. He wanted to court him properly and have a normal relationship, but now he knows that their bond can never be "normal" because, simply, Harry _isn't_ normal. He's remarkable. He's magical.

So now Louis's sitting alone on his couch, drinking the last sip of his second beer bottle. Across the room, a large window gives him a beautiful view of the shore and the waves crashing against the rocks. White gulls flutter across the sky like dandelion puffs. The sand has darkened after being drenched in rain, leaving it to resemble brown sugar.

Louis sighs and sets his empty glass bottle on the coffee table, next to a growing pile of crushed soda cans and crumpled bags of crisps. He grumbles with annoyance and puts his head in his hands, feeling his brain throb with worry. He can't stop thinking about Harry, no matter how hard he tries. He said he'd only be gone for a few days. What if something bad happened to him? What if he's gone forever?

His anxious thoughts are interrupted by the sound of his phone vibrating against the glass table. He curses under his breath and narrows his eyes at the screen. His vision is foggy with tears. It's an incoming call from his co-worker and best friend, Liam. He declines it.

He can't talk to anyone right now. He's a proper mess.

He stands up dizzily and stumbles to the front door. He steps out onto the porch and is immediately hit by a rush of cold air. He's a little buzzed, like his mind is floating carelessly. He's only wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boxers, so he shivers and crosses his arms over his chest. Goosebumps pepper his caramel skin. The breeze rustles his hair and brushes it messily across his forehead.

With bare feet, he descends off the sturdy porch and walks towards the shore. Stones and broken seashells crunch beneath his soles. Washed-up seaweed and litter scatter across the rocky beach. Taking a deep breath, he dips his toes into the icy water.

He lets his eyes flutter shut, feeling the soft wind brushing against his face. He thinks back to the first time he met Harry. He was so shocked and intrigued and hypnotized by his beauty. Now, he just wants to hold him close and kiss him until his lips turn red and bitten.

He sits down on the wet sand, letting the water lap over his small feet. He stays there for nearly an hour, looking out towards the horizon, searching for any sign of Harry. He looks for the flicker of a green tail or a head of brunette hair poking above the surface. He waits until his feet feel numb and his lips turn cold.

Then, he goes back inside and has another beer.

-

The following morning, Louis awakes to the sound of birds squawking outside of his bedroom window. He grumbles in annoyance and flips onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow. The soft fabric still smells like laundry detergent.

After a few minutes of restlessness, Louis sighs and squints at the retro alarm clock on his bedside table. It's 7:43 in the morning. The small second hand ticks quietly in the midst of silence. Huffing, Louis sits up and rubs his tired eyes with his knuckles.

His bones and muscles ache with exhaustion. He hardly slept at all. He kept having recurring nightmares about Harry being ripped to shreds by sharks or being caught in a fishing net. His paranoid mind has a very vivid imagination.

Louis stands up from his bed groggily, stretching his arms over his head, flexing his biceps. He's wearing a pair of speckled joggers and a loose Adidas shirt that he nicked from his old roommate at university. He feels comfortable and warm, perhaps _too_ warm. A thin sheet of perspiration clings to his body, dotting his hairline with sweat.

He stumbles into the bathroom and takes a quick shower. He washes his hair and lathers his body with vanilla body wash, watching the suds circle down the drain. When he's fresh and clean, he steps out of the steamy shower and wraps a fluffy towel around his waist.

He pauses in front of the vanity and rubs his palm against the foggy mirror. His reflection startles him. He hadn't shaved at all in the past week, leaving him with a noticeable beard. Dark circles plague the complexion beneath his eyes. His lips are pale and chapped. His hair is messy and wet, dripping water droplets on the tiled floors.

Missing and worrying about Harry is starting to take a toll on him, both physically and mentally. It's a constant battle of anxiety and longing and desire. He wishes he could hold Harry close to his chest and touch his hands, feel the thin webbing between his fingers. He misses his company. Without him, this cottage feels empty, lonely, and foreign. He might as well be on another planet.

Suddenly, there's a soft knock at the door. Louis's heart jumps in his chest. A little ember of hope lights up in his chest, thinking that it might be Harry. With a towel still wrapped around his waist, he walks towards the foyer and opens the front door.

But it's not Harry. It's Liam.

"Fuck," Louis says out loud, slumping his shoulders with disappointment.

Liam scoffs and crosses arms over his chest. "It's nice to see you too, Mr. Tomlinson."

"Sorry. I was just— expecting someone else," Louis says quietly, biting his lip.

"Someone else?" Liam asks suspiciously, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Louis says passively. "What are you doing here?"

"You haven't answered my calls or texts in seven days, Louis. I thought you got yourself killed," Liam says sternly. "Besides, Zayn's worried sick about you. He asked me to come check up on you. Said you were a proper mess last time he was here." He slowly eyes Louis up and down, from his bare toes to his wet, tangled hair. "I guess he was right."

Louis chuckles, rolling his eyes. "Zayn doesn't give a shit about me. He's just jealous because I've found someone to replace him."

Liam gives him a small smile. "You have a boyfriend?"

"Not quite," Louis murmurs, letting his voice fade into silence. Much to his relief, Liam doesn't bother asking any further questions about his relationship status. He clears his throat and steps aside. "Come inside, mate. You can sit on the couch. I'm gonna put on some clothes."

"Good idea," Liam teases, walking inside. The door shuts softly behind him. "We're best mates, but I'd rather not see your dick until our second date. I'm classy like that."

Louis laughs and punches his shoulder playfully. Without another word, he retreats to his bedroom and pulls on some skinny jeans and a dirty t-shirt with a faded band logo on the chest. He returns to the living room to find Liam sitting on the yellow couch, staring out the window. It gives a beautiful view of the beach.

"It's very peaceful here," Liam comments quietly, giving Louis a brief glance. "I can see why you like it so much."

Louis bites the inside of his cheek, not knowing what to say. He sits on the old, creaky rocking chair and leans back slightly. "Yeah, well. It's nice to be alone sometimes."

"Sometimes," Liam echoes softly. "But not all the time, yeah?"

"I'm not _always_ alone."

"Nobody lives within a two kilometer radius, Louis. You're all alone."

"I told you before: I've met someone."

"Right, Harold, or whatever his name is," Liam murmurs with a hint of disbelief lingering in his voice. "Look, I know the divorce was tough on you. Zayn cheated on you. He was a total arse and you deserve so much better than him, but— you can't keep doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Isolating yourself. Cutting people out of your life," Liam insists with a look of sincerity.

Louis frowns. "I'm sorry if I made you feel like I don't value our friendship. I do, Liam. I've just been— busy."

Liam looks around aimlessly. "I can tell. This place looks great," he compliments.

"Thanks," Louis says proudly. "I still have a lot more work to do, but it's coming along."

Liam stays silent for a few seconds. "Y'know you can always talk to me, right? I'm just a phone call away," he mumbles.

Louis smiles halfheartedly. "Thank you, but I'm okay. I'm just worried about Harry."

"Why?"

"Because he— he left. He was supposed to be out of town for a few days, but he hasn't returned yet. It's been an entire week."

Liam frowns. "Have you tried texting him?"

"No," Louis says, clearing his throat awkwardly. "He doesn't— um, he doesn't have a phone, actually."

"Really?" Liam says, completely bewildered. "It's 2016."

Louis chuckles. "Right, well, Harry's quite... different. He's not like most people."

"I suppose that explains why he likes you."

Louis gives him a brief, teasing glare. Liam laughs dryly and rubs his chin, scratchy the wiry hairs of his beard.

"Why don't we go take a walk on the beach, yeah?" Liam suggests with a smile, standing up from the mustard-colored couch. The old sofa is stiff and dirty and smells like cigarette smoke. It was left behind by the old owners, and Louis hasn't bothered trying to replace it. It gives the cottage character.

"Yeah, sure," Louis hums, glancing towards the kitchen. "I'll fetch us some drinks."

-

Liam departs after one beer, deciding he shouldn't drive drunk around this unfamiliar town in the middle of nowhere. They had a nice chat and discussed Sophia, sports, and the upcoming olympics. Louis skillfully avoided talking about Harry, in fear of revealing his mermaid identity. Thankfully, Liam didn't seem suspicious.

After Liam goes home, leaving tire marks in the dirt, Louis returns to the cottage. He walks inside to feel a rush of cold air and the overwhelming scent of artificial air freshener. He decides to make himself some macaroni and cheese for a late lunch. Frankly, he's an awful cook and can't make anything that takes longer than twenty minutes of preparation.

He stands over the stove whilst stirring a wooden spoon, listening to the pounding sea waves in the faint background. The steam from the boiling noodles curls up against his face, tinting his cheeks and nose pink. He can feel the heat radiating on his hand.

When his food is done, he eats at the table in complete silence. He feels alone.

He remembers when he used to eat dinner every night with Zayn. They always talked about their days at work and chatted about the weather. It was nice. Relaxing. He misses having domestic conversations.

Suddenly, there's a quiet knock at the door. Louis drops his fork and glances out the window, expecting to see Liam's car. Perhaps he forgot something.

But the driveway is completely empty. Louis's heart skips a beat.

He stands up from the table abruptly, pushing back the chair. Its legs scratch loudly against the hardwood floors. He scurries to the front door, bare feet padding over the soft living room carpet. A billion thoughts buzz through his head simultaneously.

Taking a deep breath, he opens the door.

Harry stands on his front porch, towering a few inches above Louis's height. His legs are lanky like his arms. Louis instantly looks downward and notices his big and clumsy feet. He can't believe his eyes. He's _really_ human.

His green eyes are shimmering with tears, but they're not sad tears. They're filled with happiness and relief.

"Hi," Harry croaks, wiping his wet cheeks with the back of his hand. "Sorry I'm late."

Louis gasps and squishes his cheeks between his palms. He closes the gap between their lips, tasting the lingering salt on his bubblegum lips. He cards his hands through his dry hair, feeling his soft curls.

"You're here," Louis says breathlessly. He breaks the kiss, but he doesn't let go of Harry's face. He needs to feel him close.

"I'm here," Harry replies, showing his dimples.

"You have legs," Louis says remarkably, staring in complete awe.

"Yes, but they're— they're not permanent."

Louis blinks in confusion. "What?"

"It's a long story," Harry says, shaking his head. He grabs Louis's smaller hands in his own. "Maybe we shout sit down and talk."

"Yeah, of course," Louis murmurs, touching the silky ringlets near his nape. Everything about him feels soft, from his hair to his pudgy hips to his mouth. "But first, I just— I need this. I missed you. Kiss me."

Harry grins and easily complies, bringing their lips together again.  


	13. home

Throughout his life, Harry has seen many beautiful things. He circled around the globe twice, swimming from the coral reefs of Australia to the icy shores of Greenland. He witnessed the northern lights off the coast of Nova Scotia. He dived 354 feet to the bottom of the great blue sinkhole near Belize. He swam across Mariana's Trench. He watched bioluminescent waves glowing like stars in San Diego, speckled with neon blue phytoplankton.

But none of these things can compare to the man he sees in front of him.

Louis's eyes are bluer than the waters of the Caribbean. His lips are pinker than the prettiest coral in the great barrier reef. His skin is softer than the sandy beaches of Hawaii. His voice is strong like a hurricane, yet as gentle and beautiful as a trickling waterfall.

Perhaps Louis is the eighth wonder of the world.

With these thoughts in mind, Harry sits on Louis's couch and looks down at his hands. He toys with his fingers absentmindedly. Louis can't help but stare at the lack of webbing between his digits and the short length of his fingernails. His skin no longer has a blue-tinted hue; rather, it's pale like alabaster.

His hair looks shorter when dry, the tips falling just past his shoulders in curly ringlets. It looks lighter in color, too, like the brown bark of a pine tree. His lips are pastel pink and chapped. And his eyes, which leave Louis breathless, are the richest shade of green he's ever seen. He'll never grow tired of seeing them.

Louis clears his throat. "Do you, um, want something to drink?" he offers.

Harry glances upwards to meet his gaze. He shakes his head. "No, thank you."

Louis lets out a nervous breath. "Right, well. Should we talk about this?"

"Yeah," Harry croaks, nodding slowly. "I just— I dunno where to start."

"The beginning?" Louis suggests, smiling softly. The curl of his lips calms the rapid beating of Harry's heart, slowing it down to a steady tempo.

"The beginning," Harry echoes, leaning back against the sofa. "Well, it took me two days to reach France. It wasn't very difficult to find where Perrie lives, considering it's a giant purple house on a beach near Vendée. It's kinda isolated in the middle of nowhere. Like this place."

Harry pauses to take a deep breath before continuing. "Anyway, when I got there, I sat on top of a rock near the shallows and started throwing pebbles at her window to get her attention. Eventually, she came outside and talked to me. She's _so_ pretty, Louis. She's like a goddess. I thought she was gonna be a witch with warts and a big nose and orange hair, but she's not. She's beautiful."

Louis laughs awkwardly. "I'm getting kinda jealous, love."

"Relax. I'm the gayest mermaid in the world," Harry insists, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, she was really happy to see me. I said I wanted her to turn me human, but she said she couldn't do it. At least, not entirely."

"Not entirely?" Louis asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm a human when I'm dry, but if my skin gets wet, I turn into a mermaid again. It has to be a significant amount of water, though. Not just a drop or two," Harry rambles, staring at his bare feet. "And then when I get dry again, I turn back into a human."

Louis just blinks for a few seconds in stunned silence. He doesn't quite understand. "But that's— that's great, Harry, isn't it? Now you can be both! You can be human _and_ still be your adorable mermaid self."

Harry gulps. "Yes, but— magic isn't free, Louis. It always requires a sacrifice," he says softly.

Louis's heart thuds against the walls of his chest. "What kind of sacrifice?"

"Something you love," Harry clarifies. "Or someone you love."

Louis stays silent for a few seconds. "What?" he asks, voice cracking with nervousness.

Harry frowns and stares at his feet again, avoiding eye contact. He brushes his hair out of his eyes and tucks it behind his ear. "I sacrificed my mother's pearl necklace," he admits, voice soft and shameful. "It was the only piece of her I had left. After the shark attack, I found her necklace at the bottom of the ocean buried in the sand. I cherished it. It was my only possession. I never wore it, though, because I was always afraid of breaking it or losing it. So I kept it hidden in a shipwreck nearby, just a few kilometers off the coast of Wales. Whenever I got sad or lonely, I'd go there and press the pearls against my heart. Sometimes they still felt warm. Like her."

Louis's throat stings with guilt. "Harry," he huffs, placing his hand on his knee. "You didn't have to do that, love."

"But I needed to," Harry confesses, choking down his tears. "My mother would've wanted me to be happy, and _you_ make me happy. Being with you makes me happy, Louis."

Louis sighs quietly. "You make me happy, too," he breathes out, squeezing Harry's hands. "I can't believe you're really human. It's... incredible."

"I can't believe it, either," Harry says with a grin, showing off his adorable dimples. "I actually have feet now!"

To prove his point, he props his legs up on the coffee table and wiggles his toes. A bubbly giggle pours from his strawberry lips. His eyes are bright and filled with wonder.

Louis laughs. "They're lovely, Harry," he hums. His eyes slowly ascend from his cute little toes to his pretty hipbones. "Where did you get those clothes, anyway?"

He's wearing a pair of athletic shorts and a white t-shirt that looks two sizes too small. The hem of the shirt falls just below his navel, exposing part of his belly. The elastic band of his shorts looks painfully tight and suffocates his pudgy love handles.

"I borrowed them from Perrie," Harry answers. "They're a bit too small, obviously."

Louis chews on the inside of his cheek. "Does this mean she saw you naked?"

Harry laughs as a hint of blush floods his cheeks. "Well, yeah, but it's not a big deal. She was really professional about everything."

Louis nods slowly and clears his throat. "Right."

"And look!" Harry says enthusiastically, gripping the bottom of his (Perrie's) shirt. He tugs it off to reveal his torso, bare and pale and muscled. Louis's gaze travels up his stomach to his hard nipples, which managed to leave bumps in the fabric of the shirt.

He swivels his hips back and forth, smile as wide as the grand canyon. "I don't have gills!" he exclaims, rubbing his fingers up his ribcage.

Louis bites his lip. "You don't," he agrees. He feels a rush of heat surging through his veins. He can't help it. Harry has such a nice body. He wants to ravish him completely.

Harry gasps happily. "Oh, and look at this!"

Before Louis can react, Harry is yanking down his shorts until the fleece pools around his pretty ankles. And he's not wearing pants beneath them. He has a trail of pubic hair leading from his navel to his crotch, dark and curly. Louis barely gets a glimpse of his bare cock before covering his eyes with his palms. He curses under his breath and turns his head away.

"For fuck's sake, Harry!" he nearly screams. "Pull your shorts back up!"

Harry frowns innocently. "Why?"

Louis stutters to answer. "Because that area is private, Harry!" he shouts, still shielding his eyes. "Just— cover up! Fuck!"

"Oh," Harry murmurs. He grabs his shorts and wiggles them back on. "Sorry. I didn't know."

Louis scoffs and peeks through his fingers to make sure he's clothed. Then he drops his hands and sighs. "It's fine, love. I just wasn't expecting to see your dick before our first proper date. I'm classy like that."

Harry giggles, face turning red with embarrassment. "Sorry," he says again, sitting back on the couch. "I just thought you'd like my body, 's all."

Louis frowns. He doesn't want Harry to get the wrong idea and feel ashamed of his newfound anatomy.

"You look beautiful, H. You have really nice legs and cute ankles and not to mention a great arse," he rambles. Harry giggles at the praise. "But I don't need to see your dick. At least not yet. I want to respect your privacy, love."

Harry nods understandingly. "Okay."

Louis pecks Harry's cheek, causing him to smile again. "Alright, then. I still have a few questions to ask you, if you don't mind," he prompts, idly scratching his stubble.

"Ask away."

"How did you get here? Did you swim?" Louis wonders.

Harry shakes his head. "Erm, no. Perrie actually gave me money for the Eurostar."

Louis furrows his brow. "Then what took you so long, sweetie? It's only a three hour train ride from Paris to London and then a series of short taxi drives to Grimsby."

Harry pauses. "Well, I stayed at Perrie's house for a few days after she casted the spell. She kinda had to teach me how to walk," he huffs, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "It took me a while to get used to having legs and feet. I'm still a little clumsy."

Louis cooes. "That's so adorable!"

Harry blushes. "It's _not_ adorable. It's embarrassing. I shouldn't have to learn how to walk at age nineteen. I'm not a baby."

"But you're _my_ baby," Louis rebuttals, holding Harry's hand. "And I'll always be here to catch you if you fall."

Harry flushes. "You're too nice to me."

"And you're too hard on yourself," Louis retorts. "You're absolutely perfect, Harry. I like everything about you. I'm the happiest I've been in years, all thanks to you."

Harry smiles. "Well, that's good. You deserve to be happy."

Louis kind of wants to cry. Months of pent-up emotions are all coming crashing down in one moment, flooding his mind like a tsunami. He can't believe Harry is really sitting in his living room right now with legs and feet and no tail. He feels like his life has turned into a cheesy Disney fantasy.

"Are you okay, Lou?" Harry asks, noticing the shimmer in Louis's eyes.

The older man frowns and closes his eyes for a few seconds. He coughs to clear his throat. "Yeah, I just— I'm really glad you're back," he exhales. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too," Harry insists.

Louis grins and brings their lips together. The kiss is soft and slow. Harry's lips still taste a little bit like saltwater, but Louis doesn't mind. He raises his hand to touch Harry's hair, caressing his head gently. Harry hums into the kiss and practically melts under his touch.

"Welcome home," Louis murmurs, pulling back slightly. He brushes his nose against Harry's and looks up into his green depths.

Harry exhales an airy laugh. "Thanks," he mumbles. "Could I borrow some of your clothes? I feel like I'm suffocating in Perrie's right now."

Louis nods and stands up. "Sure, of course. Follow me."

Louis leads Harry to his bedroom and shows him his closet and dresser filled with clothes, most of which are Adidas brand. He can't help it, though. It's an unhealthy addiction.

After thirty minutes of debating and careful consideration, Harry chooses a pair of loose joggers (because Louis's jeans are too small) and one of his oversized purple jumpers. The sleeves are long and hang far past his fingertips. Louis smiles when he sees Harry's hands drowning in knitted fleece.

"Here," Louis says gently, rolling up the sleeves to his wrists. He lightly kisses his knuckles.

Harry giggles. "Are you glad my skin isn't slimy anymore?"

Louis just shrugs. "I like you either way, to be honest."

And it's the honest truth. Louis thinks Harry's beautiful in either form— human or mermaid. It's his personality that intrigues him the most, after all. It's his mysteriousness and wonder and sweetness and irresistible kindness.

"Let's go shopping downtown," Louis hums. "I'll buy you all the clothes you want."

Harry's eyes light up with excitement, meeting Louis's marbles of sapphire. "Really?"

"Really."

Their irises fit together perfectly: ground and sea. Ocean and land. Water and grass. At first, these worlds seemed so far apart. But now, thanks to a little bit of magic, the distance doesn't seem as scary anymore.

"C'mon, my little mermaid," Louis says sweetly. He grabs Harry's hand and leads him out the door, feeling like the luckiest prince in the entire world.


	14. discovery

Graffiti illustrates the cracked pavement and bricked buildings, decorating the city of Grimsby with color and character. Louis and Harry hold hands as they walk along the crowded streets, enjoying the nice weather and bright sunlight. The green-eyed boy looks around with the excitement of a newborn puppy.

To Harry, these unfamiliar sights and sounds feel completely foreign. He's become accustomed to the feeling of warm water lapping against his skin and the soothing tune of whale songs. The hustle and bustle of human life makes his head spin in confused circles.

For mermaids, life is (mostly) peaceful. They swim gracefully and travel the world in pods. They sit on rocks in the shallows and comb their hair with venus murex shells. They scavenge for crustaceans in tropical waters and float alongside schools of multicolored fish.

But _this_ , being so far ashore with many different people, feels different. Not bad, per se. Just different.

"So many humans," Harry says breathlessly, eyes full of wonder.

His pink lips are curled into a seemingly permanent smile. Dimples accentuate his pudgy, blush-tinted cheeks.

"Are you scared?" Louis asks apprehensively. "We can go back home if you want."

 _Home_ , Harry thinks. The cottage is _their_ home. It's where they met and shared their first kiss. It's where their fairytale story first began.

"No," Harry answers a few seconds later. He motions around cluelessly. "All of this is kinda new, 's all."

Louis smiles and squeezes Harry's hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, love. I'll keep you safe from the scary humans."

Harry giggles and shakes his head fondly. "Shut up."

They walk into a nearby clothing store. Harry can't help but stare at the faceless mannequins in the glass display, dressed up in skinny jeans and stylish t-shirts. Inside, countless racks and shelves show an array of different clothes, ranging in color and texture.

Immediately, Harry unknowingly rushes towards the women's department and picks up a sheer floral blouse. The thin fabric is covered in blue flowers, complete with black buttons and a breast pocket. He smiles widely and turns towards Louis, holding the hanger with excitement.

"So pretty!" he says happily.

Louis bites his lip. "Compliments your eyes, love."

Harry blushes and continues searching through the clothing racks. The sound of hangers scratching against metal fills the atmosphere. Harry's grin glows as bright as the sun. He's still trying to get used to his land legs, so he stumbles over his own feet a few times, but Louis's always there to catch him.

"Look at this!" Harry says enthusiastically, grabbing a bubblegum pink sundress. The straps are thin like spaghetti. He holds the dress against his chest and smiles, swaying back and forth to make the bottom ripple.

A few nearby strangers send Harry a few odd glances. A little girl even laughs out loud and points. But Harry— he's completely oblivious in a blissful state of innocence.

"What's wrong?" Harry asks confusedly, noticing the frown on Louis's face.

He shakes his head. "Nothing, darling. It's just—"

"I know dresses are supposed to be for women, Louis," Harry scoffs, rolling his eyes. "I'm not an idiot."

Louis slumps his shoulders. "I didn't say you were."

"I know, but— I just don't understand why boys can't wear dresses. It's just a piece of fabric, right?" Harry says, shrugging nonchalantly. "Mermaids don't have gender roles."

Louis's stomach flutters. "You'd look beautiful in a dress, Harry," he admits. "You've got the legs for it."

Harry flushes and twirls around cutely. "Thank you, my prince." He pecks Louis's cheek softly, causing him to smile.

"No problem, my little mermaid."

An hour later, Harry leaves the store with two pairs of jeans, joggers, three shirts, some boxers and briefs, and a pretty pink dress.

-

The sound of the sea rages in the background as Louis and Harry lounge on the sofa, watching Grease on the large box-like television. Louis has his arm wrapped around Harry's shoulder while he leans his head against him. His curls tickle Louis's neck, but he doesn't seem to complain.

A bag of seaweed chips rests in Harry's lap. Louis bought them from the "foreign" section at their local Tesco. He thinks they taste like rubbish, but Harry loves them. The organic salty flavor reminds him of the sea.

Louis opted for potato chips instead.

On the fuzzy television screen, the car drives off into the sky and the credits start to roll. Harry's sleepy eyes flutter heavily as a soft yawn escapes past his lips. Louis smiles down at him and strokes his cheek gently.

"Tired, love?"

Harry smiles tiredly and nods. "Exhausted."

"We had a long day, didn't we?" Louis asks rhetorically. "Let's go to sleep, love."

Harry nods and stands up wearily. He latches onto Louis's shoulder for support as he stumbles clumsily down the hallway. He still hasn't perfected the whole "walking" thing.

Harry collapses on the soft bed and snuggles beneath the blankets. Louis envelopes him with his arms and presses his chest against his back. The heavy quilt above them was knitted by Louis's grandmother, and it still smells like her butterscotch candies despite being washed countless times.

"Goodnight," Louis murmurs, kissing his nape.

Harry hums attentively. "G'night, Lou."

-

Louis awakes to the feeling of movement. Inconspicuous movement. As he emerges from a deep state of slumber, he can faintly sense Harry shifting in the bed next to him. And then he hears it— a soft whimper.

He immediately opens his eyes and wonders if Harry's in pain, but then he looks down and— oh. He's not hurt.

He's _hard_.

He's still asleep with a full erection, rutting his cock up against Louis's thigh. His lashes flutter prettily as he whines with desperation. He's only wearing a pair of tight blue boxers that show the outline of his dick. He continues to unconsciously hump Louis's leg as he lies motionlessly, not knowing what to do.

Louis feels a rush of panic. Harry probably doesn't even _know_ what a boner is. For fuck's sake, he's only had a dick for one week.

Harry's lips fall open around a quiet whimper. "Lou," he says softly.

Louis's heart skips a beat. He's having a wet dream, and Louis is part of it. He kind of wants to scream and cry at the same time.

He doesn't know what to do. Harry has barely had any time to adjust to his new anatomy. In retrospect, Louis should've known this would happen, but it's just _weird._ How do you give "the talk" to someone in their twenties?

Louis gulps nervously and pokes Harry's shoulder. "Love?"

He doesn't wake up. He feels Harry's cock twitch against his leg. His eyebrows scrunch together with sexual frustration.

"Babe, wake up," Louis says a little louder, rubbing Harry's bicep.

Harry awakes with a surprised jolt. He looks up at Louis with unfocused eyes and flushed cheeks. Louis's chest starts to feel tighter (and so do his pants).

"Lou?" he asks sleepily, confusion threaded in his tone.

"Hey," Louis says dryly, brushing the loose curls out of his eyes. His dark brown hair is damp with sweat.

Harry winces. "Hurts," he seethes. "Make it stop."

Louis's stomach twists in knots. "I— I can't, Harry. You're hard. Do you know what that means?"

"It means I want you," Harry whines, turning his face into the crook of Louis's neck.

"You don't know what you want," Louis rebuttals.

"I _do_ ," Harry insists, kissing his collarbone. "Make me feel good. Please, Louis."

"You've been human for a week, Harry. This feels wrong. You need to figure out what you like on your own, okay? I can't just— I can't take advantage of you like this," Louis rambles. He peels back the covers and stands up from the bed. "I'm sorry."

Harry whines and reaches out to clasp Louis's wrist. "Wait, I— Did I do something wrong?" he asks, eyes glossy.

Louis shakes his head and sighs. He nudges away from Harry's grasp. "No, H."

"Then why won't you help me?" he asks, palming himself through his boxers. Louis can't help but stare, and, Jesus. He's big. 

He looks so _good_ when he's horny, Louis thinks. His cheeks are pink. His lips are puffy and red and bitten. His eyes are wide and hazy with need.

"Because you should get to know your own body before you let me— help you," Louis chokes out, heart beating out of his chest.

Part of him wants to pounce on Harry and ravish him completely. Part of him wants to strip off his clothes and make love to Harry for hours on end. Part of him wants to let his own desires take control.

But he'd never be able to live with himself if he took away Harry's innocence.

"I'm sorry," Louis huffs. "I _want_ you, H. I really do. I promise I'll make love to you soon, but not now. Not when you don't even know your own body."

Harry whines with annoyance. "I'm not a child, Louis."

"You're not a child," Louis agrees.

"Then why won't you touch me?" Harry asks with impatience.

Louis just pinches his eyes shut and shakes his head. "I can't, Harry."

Without another word, he leaves the bedroom and shuts the door behind him. Harry begs him not to go, that he _needs_ him, but Louis pretends he didn't hear it. He immediately rushes outside to feel a blast of cold air and chilly wind. He crosses his arms over his chest and walks down to the beach, completely barefoot. The stones and broken seashells crunch beneath his soles.

He walks along the shore to clear his thoughts, listening to the soothing sounds of the sea.  


	15. memories

When Louis was twelve years old, he felt completely invisible. His mother had just given birth to twin girls, Daisy and Phoebe, and they were a handful. He was the lone boy of five children, not to mention the only half-sibling of the lot. As much as he loved Mark, he wasn't his biological father. 

He couldn't help but feel like an outsider. He didn't even have his own bedroom— he slept on the couch most nights, listening to the ear-splitting sounds of baby cries and toddler temper tantrums. He didn't feel like he mattered. Like if he vanished, nobody would notice for a few days. Or maybe not at all.

Louis was kind of just... there. He loved his parents with all his heart, but they didn't seem to care. They were always too distracted, too tired, or too busy to pay attention to him.

At twelve years old, Louis was going through a lot of changes. There were two more mouths to feed and two more sisters to babysit whilst his parents were at work. He was failing all his classes from exhaustion and lack of sleep. He was starting to enter the marvelous phase of puberty and trying to figure out why his tummy felt tingly around cute boys.

Unfortunately, he had no one to talk to about these things. He was angry, tired, and alone. Sometimes he would draw a bath and dip his head beneath the water, and then he'd scream at the top of his lungs to let out his frustrations. He'd scream until his voice was shot and his throat felt scratchy.

And afterwards, he'd always feel okay. Relieved, perhaps.

Now, Louis wades in the sea with the water up to his waist, stepping on a bed of pointy rocks and pebbles. His skin is peppered with goosebumps. He crosses his arms over his bare chest and stares out towards the horizon, seeing nothing but endless blue. Wispy white clouds cover the sky.

He feels frustrated. He recalls the distraught look on Harry's face as he left him— it was absolutely heartbreaking. Harry's eyes were watery and rimmed with red. His cheeks were flushed with rejection and embarrassment.

Louis felt guilty, he truly did, but he just— he couldn't. It didn't feel right to take advantage of Harry's innocence. Harry doesn't understand human anatomy. He's just... pure. Louis would never be able to live with himself if he tainted Harry's purity before he was ready.

He takes a deep breath before sinking into the sea and screaming, filling the water with bubbles.

-

"I'm sorry."

Harry's startled by the sound of Louis's voice. He's standing in the kitchen eating some cheap pre-made sushi from Louis's fridge, leaning against the counter with his ankles crossed. He pauses mid-chew and stares at Louis with raised eyebrows.

After a few seconds, he gulps. "You're sorry?"

Louis's wet from head-to-toe. His hair is drenched and dripping on the floor. His boxers are completely soaked and clinging to his thighs. From across the room, Harry can faintly smell the saltwater on his pruned skin.

"I'm sorry for leaving you," Louis says slowly. "I'm not going to apologize for not touching you, though."

Harry frowns and looks down at the tiled floor. "You're disgusted by me."

It isn't a question. It sounds like a painful statement.

Louis shakes his head urgently. "I'm not disgusted, Harry. You're beautiful, and your body is— amazing. Both your human and mermaid form drive me absolutely crazy."

Harry blushes and sets his sushi aside, giving Louis his undivided attention. "Then why won't you make love to me?"

"Because I don't think you know what you want—"

"I do! I want you!" Harry assures, throwing his hands up with annoyance.

"Wait, Harry. Let me finish, please," Louis begs, eyes pleading. Harry huffs in irritation and reluctantly shuts his mouth. "I met Zayn in college. Before I met him, I was still a virgin, which is... really embarrassing." He pauses and laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Anyway, after our second date, he took me back to his place. We had sex, and I absolutely hated it. It was completely consensual, and I thought I wanted it at the time, but I— I think I was just too afraid to tell him no. We were both hard, and I thought if I told him that I wasn't ready, he'd break up with me."

Harry just stares and blinks a few times, lips slightly parted.

"I guess I was afraid you felt the same way," Louis confesses. "I don't want you to be afraid to tell me no. You're so— you're so new to this, Harry. I care about you too much."

Harry sighs quietly. "I want you, Louis. I promise. You mean so much to me, okay?"

Louis's voice trembles when he says, "But _why_ do you like me? Is it just because I'm the first human you ever met?"

Harry scoffs at the accusation. "Of course not! I like you because you're _you_ , Louis. You're sexy and funny and sensitive and kind. You're amazing."

"But—"

"Stop talking," Harry interrupts. "I wasn't finished."

Louis frowns and bites the inside of his cheek.

"Where I come from, love doesn't exist. We mate simply to reproduce. But you— you've taught me that there's so much more to life. I may be a mythical creature, but you're the most magical thing in my life, Louis."

Subconsciously, Louis takes a few steps closer to Harry. He places a hand on his hip, where the hem of his blouse meets the waistband of his skinny jeans. He looks up at him with admiration and regret.

"Can we start over?" he asks quietly.

Harry laughs quietly, dimples deepening. "I'd quite like that."

Louis leans in to kiss him, but Harry turns his face. "Hey, let's wait 'till you're dry, yeah?" he teases. "I'd rather not flop over like a fish in the middle of your kitchen."

Louis giggles and blows Harry a kiss instead. He pretends to catch it and smirks.

"Why did you go for a swim, anyway? It's freezing," Harry asks abruptly.

"I just needed to unwind," he explains, waving his hand dismissively. "Plus, I had a boner. The freezing water got rid of it."

Harry gasps scandalously and hides his face behind his hands. "Oh my god, Louis!"

Louis just shrugs nonchalantly. "I can't help it. You're gorgeous."

Harry rolls his eyes and quickly fetches a dish rag from the kitchen drawer. He throws it at Louis's face, who catches it with cat-like reflexes. "Dry yourself off, you sap. I can't wait to get my hands on you."

Louis chuckles and dries himself off to the best of his ability. As soon as he sets the rag aside, Harry grabs him roughly and presses him up against the counter, fingers digging into the tough muscle of his shoulder. Harry kisses him deeply and Louis giggles into his mouth.

"You taste like sushi. Gross."

"You better get used to the taste. I am a fish myself, after all."

Louis raises an eyebrow. "What? Do you expect me to eat you?"

"Depends on what kind of _eat_ you're implying," Harry says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Louis kisses him again, just to shut him up.


End file.
